Memento Mori
by Starlit Skyline
Summary: Set in DH, no-yaoi/no-slash. Three centuries after the rule of the Demon Emperor, an immortal Lelouch and Suzaku are captured by Voldemort. Pulled into an unknown world, will Lelouch be able to come up on top? *COMPLETE!*
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I, the writer of this fanfiction, do not, in any shape or form, own Harry Potter or Code Geass. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. Code Geass is the property of Ichirō Ōkouchi. The idea and plotline of this fanfiction are my property. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. I write for my own enjoyment.**

**xxxoooxxx**

Prologue

How does a legend come to be? There are cases in which the tale is completely fabricated, a patchwork of imagination with not an ounce of truth. There are however, those "stories" that are, or _were_, entirely true, but became so bloated and exaggerated by the gossip-tongued masses that it became too warped for the reality of it to be recognized. The common-people fill it with exaggerations and things that couldn't possibly be true and slowly the truth becomes twisted, history becomes a bed-time story and the story descends into myth. From there, it's anyone's guess what actually happened.

If I told you of a grand Empire, and an Emperor with many children all fighting for his throne – well, you've probably all heard this kind of fairytale before. It is a classic tale, and it has its' twists and turns as all the rest. In this giant nest of aristocrats there once was a Prince, the Eleventh Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, who had just lost his mother and was now left with a blind and crippled little sister.

It was because of this girl – this young, now helpless six-year-old – that one of the greatest, most ruthless Emperors of Britannia was birthed.

The 99th Emperor, a glorified boogie-man to children and a demon incarnate to adults; conqueror and liberator; strategic genius and ruthless sovereign; once instigator of a grand rebellion and many, many things more that the world will never know – but what he was most remarkable at was his acting. You could say his entire life was a play, orchestrated and twisted by the strings of fate. Be assured he was a brilliant actor – so brilliant, in fact, that he had managed to fool everyone – even his own little sister, and himself, on occasion. He had a flare for the dramatics, and in that fashion he played out his own death.

The punishment of the Demon Emperor was death. The punishment of the Knight of Zero, his enemy and closest friend and everything in between, was to continue to live.

When the Demon Emperor had fallen, toppled down from his throne and next to his shell-shocked sister, and as Nunally touched her brother, tears of grief bubbling from her eyes – she had seen it. She had seen loyalty and bloodshed, the first battle won and the last battle fraught. She had heard screams and desperate cries – for family members, for friends, for brothers in all but blood calling each other traitor and shouting words in hatred. She had felt the tears, the frustration, and maybe even a tinge of madness, but also hope, happiness in rare, jaded places and perhaps, most shocking of all _love._ Because, after all, her Brother had done all of this for her. "I destroy worlds... and I create them." and he had been true to his words – because a perfect world was built on the ruins of another, a house on the ruins of it's predecessor, a good life on that of the suffering.

But after seeing these memories, Nunally vi Britannia grew scared. In her grief and fright of all the bloodshed her brother had committed, she ordered all advanced weapons, war machines and everything else that had once been common in the military banned and destroyed. Science labs which worked on manufacturing such monstrosities were shut down and burnt to the ground – and all evidence that such things had even existed was all but erased, and only the memory lingered in those who had seen, used and felt their destructive power. Zero had supported her wholeheartedly.

Years passed, and the world had grown lethargic in its' now peaceful existence – and for a glorious half a century no one had invoked war. Then the 100th Emperess died. It was like a bubble had been popped, like all safety and bliss had vanished – because Nunally had not chosen a successor and all her relatives wanted her throne, her power, her title as _Ultimate Ruler._

In their greed, their lust for power, they besmirched her memory, all that she had stood for and the world she had created. Nunally, on her part, had done a brilliant thing by destroying the Knightmare Frames – not one was left in existence! – and any advanced battle ships like Schneizel's Avalon had been. Still, that did not stop the war from braking out.

Zero – the Hero, the Savior, the very Symbol of Peace – was unable to stop any of it, and one day, he had just _disappeared._ No one knew what happened to him, exactly. Some say he took his own life, because of his grief over the Empress and the remnants of a world destroyed because of human selfishness. Some claim he was assassinated, murdered by the vary people he was sworn to protect. Some think he abandoned them in their time of need. Some ponder that it wouldn't have made much of a difference either way.

The planet dissolved into chaos and suddenly, the common-folk found that they did not want this war that was thrust upon them – to fight one another, to kill their friends, relatives and kinsmen simply because they found themselves in apposing armies – nothing but toy soldiers in the hands of spoiled children.

Revolution spread across the continents like wildfire, war broke out, lives were taken, weapons clashed, new, independent countries were formed, blood soaked the earth like rain – and the world under the 100th Empress became a distant memory in the minds of those old enough to remember those forgotten times.

And after the ash had settled and the blood of the last remaining Royal was spilled, there was nothing left of Britannia but a whisper in folktales and a history forged in the lies of the Demon Emperor.

**xxxoooxxx**

_"Hello, you have reached the "Indigo Gardens" Real Estate agency, Katharine Silas speaking. How may I help you?"_

_"Good morning," _said the voice on the other side of the phone _"this is Jered Humphrey. I'm calling about the house on Terrell Road in Harefield village."_

The secretary smiled to herself._ "Ah, yes. Do you want me to arrange-"_

_"I want to buy it."_ Came the blunt reply.

The woman paused, a bit thrown off, before answering._"Uh, alright sir, certainly. I'll arrange a meeting with the current owner of the house and you can do just that."_

**xxxoooxxx**

"Move it to the right!"

The other man did just that, but that did not sooth the speaker in the least – if anything, he looked even more aggravated. "No, that's left! I said _right_Suzaku!"

The other man, Suzaku, sighed in exasperation. "Don't you ever get tired of this?" he asked.

There was a chuckle behind him. "You'd be surprised how fun it is to boss you around, muscle-head."

Suzaku snorted "Oh please, you couldn't lift this thing if your life depended on it."

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it?" was the snide answer.

Suzaku just shook his head "You're hopeless, Lulu." His exasperation hid the fondness in his tone. Lelouche rolled his eyes behind him.

After a while, and the picture Leluche had grown so fond of that they had lugged it with them over three centuries finally found its' place on the wall, Suzaku finally asked. "So, what made you choose this house?" he said when they had sat down for some tea and coffee (tea for him, coffee for Lelouche).

His companion had looked up, a seemingly innocent look on his face. "What do you mean?"

"I know you well enough to know that you don't do anything at random, Lulu." Suzaku began conversationally, a thoughtful look on his face "I mean, this neighborhood is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, technology is at least a century and a half outdated and you expect me to believe you would pick this place over a scientifically advanced metropolis or something of the like? It just isn't your style."

Lelouch merely shrugged. "I don't know. Guess I was just looking for a little peace and quiet." he said, looking out the window at the streets and two-story houses around them and the forest beyond them. Yes, a quiet life sounded wonderful.

**xxxoooxxx**

Lelouch Lamperouge, or Jared Humphrey as he was now more commonly known at this particular point in time, couldn't sleep. It was true that he was still (and probably always would be) an insomniac, that he had committed many crimes that did not allow sleep to come easily to him – but honestly, even he deserved some rest once in a while!

It didn't help that the guy he shared his house with was one of the loudest people he knew.

Now, he'd lived with Kururugi Suzaku for three and a half centuries, and greatly appreciated his company – even if he didn't admit it often and even though Suzaku could annoy the heck out of him at any given time – Suzaku's snoring seemed to be the greatest problem so far. It didn't help the fact that Lelouch was an insomniac – nights planning his revenge and orchestrating the Black Rebellion, and later Zero Requiem, had left their mark. Tonight, however, there was no incessant snoring coming from the next room (and Lelouch still couldn't understand how he could still hear Suzaku through a solid, brick _wall)._So why, in the name of Britannia, was he unable to sleep?!

It was just one of those nights, he guessed.

Lulu sighed before making his way out of his bedroom, intent on entertaining himself with something now that it was apparent he wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep - it was already 4:30 AM, the sun would be rising soon. _This sucks,_he thought bitterly. Lelouch contemplated going downstairs to watch TV, but dismissed the idea – there was nothing interesting to watch at this hour, despite maybe something about crime – but he usually figured out the mystery before the characters even knew what was happening around them. Maybe a book then? No, he'd already read them all. That only left one option – Suzaku. While he was reluctant to wake Suzaku just because _he_couldn't sleep, Lelouch was feeling exceptionally grumpy tonight and though he was loath to admit it, he really needed the company. It was sleepless nights like these that reminded him just how alone the two of them truly were.

For _three centuries_they had lived in hiding and semi to complete isolation. It was C.C. fault, he'd decided long ago – because the boorish woman always had something to do with messing up his plans. Lulu hadn't meant to become immortal, but C.C. had tricked him into it, forfeiting her own immortality to him. Suzaku... was completely and utterly his fault. He should have been more careful with his Geass, should have been more specific with his Geass, instead he–

_Live!_

–cursed his most loyal knight, his once-enemy, his _best friend_ to eternal damnation – because so far, that was what immortality was turning out to be.

Lelouch frowned, pushing those thoughts away – he should know better than to dwell on those things. Looking around the empty hall on the second floor for some kind of distraction, his gaze traveled over the bookshelf, past the door to Suzaku's bedroom, the door to the bathroom, the window-

Then something caught his eye, a flash of light, and he only had a second before that _something_ crashing through the window. Lelouch was thrown back, landing on his side, momentarily stunned. Heat – great, blistering heat filled the room as smoke rose up from the burning carpet – fire. Fire, smoke, someone was trying to burn him alive!

He looked around frantically, before his eyes caught the sight beyond the broken window.

Fire, bright and untamed, covered the streets.

Suzaku chose that moment to open his bedroom door, green eyes wide in alarm. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lelouch knew this _really_wasn't the time for small-talk. He grabbed Suzaku by the wrist, yanking him down the stairs. They ran to the front hall, and Lelouch grabbing the phone as he went and hastily dialed the number of the Fire Department. He dimly heard Suzaku's shouted questions as he quickly reported the fire and it's location before the line went dead.

They ran across the front lawn – Suzaku had gone silent by now – they needed to evacuate the people, needed to get somewhere safe until help arrived.

Screams mingled with the crackling of the flames. Fire blazed across the streets of the small village, atop the rooftops and within burning houses, but what really caused alarm bells to go off in Lelouch's head were the unlikely bunch in the middle of it all, waving strange sticks (?) madly that went off like confetti and causing even more chaos. Streaks of green lightning soared between the flames, hitting the screaming people trying to escape. All who were hit fell to the ground, unmoving.

For a fragment of a second, Lelouch froze, taking in the smell of burn wood, flesh and blood and the sight of the bodies sprawled listlessly on the ground. Suzaku, however, sprang into action, guided by years of training, now centuries old. "Move!" the Japanese man yelled, tackling his friend to the ground just as a jet of green light flew above their heads. Suzaku was back on his feet not a second later, yanking Lelouch off the ground.

"Lelouch, what's going on?!"

It was all happening too fast, the turn of events too abrupt for Lelouch to truly comprehend the situation – only one thought was clear his stunned mind: "We need to get away!" Disbelieving eyes turned to stare at him, "But the villagers!" Suzaku protested, looking horrified. Lelouch grit his teeth, trying to make Suzaku understand just how hopeless the situation really was. "You know what will happen if we get caught!" he yelled, a note of desperation entering his voice "Please, Suzaku, I don't want to have to go through that again!"

Lelouch remembered all too well when his "condition" was revealed last. It had happen years ago, when C.C. was still alive. He and Suzaku had somehow gotten involved in a gang fight – he had been piss-ass drunk, back then he had a habit of drinking away his misery – and Suzaku had just manage to drag him out of the bar. He didn't remember much, just being disoriented and in pain. Suzaku had managed to defend them pretty well, but it was twelve against one and the Japanese boy had been subdued quickly enough. Somewhere in the fray, Lelouch had managed to get himself stabbed – but, he was immortal, and that meant he wasn't going to die anytime soon.

When their attackers realized that he wasn't dead, and more importantly that the stab wound was all but gone they had been afraid and curious. They'd dragged him and Suzaku to some abandoned building and beat him, cut him – just to see how quick he would heal.

Then they turned greedy, thinking of how to use him and how much money they could earn if they sold him to some scientific organization or another (or the black market).

Then they turned their abuse on Suzaku, to see if he shared Lelouch's unnatural abilities.

While Suzaku was immortal and his body didn't age, that didn't mean he couldn't be _hurt_. Suzaku, unlike him, didn't have a ridiculously quick healing rate – and he _could_die from physical injuries, illness, blood-loss, poisoning and all other kinds of death that Lelouch did not like to dwell on.

C.C. and Jeremiah had come to their rescue, and to this day Lelouch wasn't sure how they even knew anything was wrong, but that had been some _hours_ later – hours filled with pain and blood and Suzaku's agonized screams.

Lelouch had sworn to himself that from that day on he would never touch alcohol ever again.

Back in the present, Suzaku's expression grew somber and he gave a slight nod in understanding, his eyes gentle "Okay."

"And where do you think you're going, you pathetic little muggles?" Lelouch tensed, spinning around to see a woman – dressed in all black, covered with a thick cloak – standing a few feet behind them. Lelouch cursed himself. How could he let an enemy get so close? Granted, it had been three centuries since he had to participate in a fight of this magnitude – where had his brilliant, strategic mind gone off to? Was he actually going _senile_?

The woman's face was harsh, filled with sadistic glee. Her grin was unsettling and there was something not quite sane in her eyes as she advanced. Lelouch tensed even further, ready to fight or flee if need be. "Did you honestly think you could escape me?! Fools!" the woman let lose another jet of light from her stick and Lelouch felt his heart stop when he realized it wasn't headed towards him, but straight for Suzaku. Without thought or hesitation, he threw himself in it's' path.

The light hit him square in the chest – it didn't hurt, not exactly – but he suddenly felt as cold as a grave – before his body went numb and the familiar sensation of his body dying filled his mind.

A couple of seconds later, that felt like an eternity to Lulu, he drew breath, finding himself draped over Suzaku's back.

Suzaku was running, Suzaku was carrying him – which meant they had either managed to escape the crazy woman or were doing so now. Lelouch smiled weakly, feeling tired and drained (his revival had left him thoroughly exhausted) before his eyes slipped closed once again.

**xxxoooxxx**

**AN: Okay, I know this is terribly clichéd, but somehow that's the way it turned out and I don't have a decent excuse for it. I'll elaborate on the timeline in future chapters, but I'm not giving too much away, since this is just a teaser.**

**I want to see what people think of this before posting more chapters – if I do decide to continue this, which more or less depends on the interest people put in it – so basically, it's the usual "review and I will update" which I think we're all familiar with.**

**So, review, please?**


	2. Alea Iacta Est

**Warning: Character death (OCs) and some slightly disturbing content. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: Forgot to do this last chapter, but honestly, we all know the drill. Disclaimed.**

**xxxoooxxx**

**Chapter One, Alea Iacta Est**

Bellatrix Lestrange was having a splendid night out. For one, her Lord had ordered another attack, and while it was just a small muggle settlement, the prospect of hunting down muggles and making them scream always sent pleasant shivers down her spine. For another, she had feared that since they had taken the Ministry of Magic that she would have less time to just cause some chaos with the muggle population and watch them wither in the dust. Some idiot wizards were still opposing them – those insolent mudbloods, as if they had a chance of accomplishing anything! – but they would still have to be dealt with soon, they were annoying her Lord.

And yet, her Lord still found time to send them out to have some fun with those pitiful muggles – her Lord was so generous!

Screams rang in the air, like some echoing symphony, and the smell of burning wood and flesh filled the air like a bitter-tasting perfume. Oh, how she loved it all!

She walked though the chaos of the burning village leisurely, as if taking a walk thought a park – but this was so much more exhilarating than something so dull! She threw curses whenever an opportune target presented itself, sometimes killing, and sometimes torturing before doing so – though she needn't put much effort, the smoke was already torture enough for these muggles, and if they were not suffocating, some had caught fire and were burnt to death. Stupid muggles, hadn't they ever heard of a cleansing-air charm? She sneered, no, these foul creatures were not deserving of a power such as magic.

Her sharp, predatory, eyes caught sight of another potential kill. Two muggles, youths, by the looks of them, were standing in the middle of the burning street, arguing with each other! How stupid could you get?!

A smirk crossed her face – oh, this could be so fun! She snuck up to them slowly, using over-turned cars and trees for cover – they didn't even see her coming when she fire off a curse just a second after finishing her gloating – and gloat she should, these two were so easily downed it was funny!

And then one of them did something even funnier – he jumped in the way of her killing curse to save his buddy! Hilarious! As if that would save any of them!

The raven-haired boy fell to the ground without further protest and she turned to finish off the job. The other boy looked stunned, but there was less horror in his expression than Bella would have liked – she just killed his friend/relative or whatever and he couldn't even ball his eyes out or beg for his life? How pitiful. Still, there was something slightly... _off_ about this one. She shook the feeling off, what was there to be afraid of, a _muggle_? The mere though was laughable!

Bellatrix continued to approach the boy, and he seemed frozen for a moment, staring at the corpse sprawled on the floor. Huh, he wasn't even trying to make a run for it – that was no fun. As she walked over, wanting to scare him, spur him into action before ending his futile struggles with two beautiful words, she noticed he was still staring at his fallen comrade, all but ignoring her! This insulted her greatly, and she made sure to trample on the body, stomping on the corpse's shoulder in the process.

Just as a curse was ready to jump off the tip of her tongue, there was a shuddering gasp. Her eyes widened as she felt the flesh under her foot _move! _Bella watched in shock as the corpse's eyes _opened_, her dumbfounded brain unable to process what she was seeing _because this muggle had died at her hand not a_ _mi__nute ago and corpse's weren't supposed to be _moving! But then something hit her in the stomach, and she stumbled, falling to the ground. For a moment, she lay there, stunned out of her mind, before she realized that _the muggles were running away!_

She jumped to her feet, her legs already running at full-speed as her mind raced. Another Boy-Who-Lived? But no, that couldn't be possible! There was no blood sacrifice! No one had done what that wrench Lily Potter had done! So why was the muggle still alive? What magic was this? She had to know, had inform her Lord of this new development! Could she possibly aid her Lord in his quest with this knowledge? The thought made Bella's heart race with excitement. Bella knew this was a price her Lord would award her handsomely for. She would not disappoint him!

**xxxoooxxx**

He didn't know what was happening – there was fire all around him, surrounding him and drawing ever closer, filling his lungs with smoke and making him choke. He needed to find a way out of this nightmare. He needed to get Lelouche somewhere safe.

Suzaku was still confused as to what had caused all this. There had been people in cloaks setting fire to the village houses and killing the inhabitants of those homes – the thought made Suzaku angry, but he suppressed it. He couldn't lose his head now – and his mind just kept screaming, in a voice that was eerily similar to Lelouche's: _Danger! Idiot, get out of there! _

Lelouche, himself, was still out of it – whatever they hit him with, it must have been pretty lethal for Lelouche to be unconscious for so long, usually it only took a couple of seconds, minutes, if the cause of death was something like bullets/swords through the chest/stomach/any-other-places-that-would-almost-instantly-end-a-normal-person's-life or severe burns. Suzaku couldn't tell how long it had been since Lelouche was shot – three minutes? Five? Seven? Maybe ten? – but he wasn't going to take chances anymore. The place was still crawling with those strangely dressed, stick-waving bastard maniacs that could potentially be the end of them both.

Suzaku's heartbeat was frantic, as if it was trying to break out of his rib-cage. His lungs were burning, every breath he took more painful than the last – but the ever-present burden on his back made him press on. He had to do this, had to survive, for Lelouche – because Lelouche could survive this, could survive _anything_ (well, almost anything, but Suzaku didn't like to dwell on the "what if"s, decapitation was not a pretty way to go) – but what if he, Suzaku, died here? He had seen his best friend in his deepest pit of despair, where he had drunk himself stupid and killed himself just to check if maybe some deity had had mercy on him and would let him stay dead – but Suzaku had always been there – there to talk to his friend, to hide any sharp objects, or guns or anything Lelouche could use against himself. Suzaku had been there, when Lelouche was dangling off the edge of insanity when Nunally had finally passed away, some one hundred years ago, and when the Brittanian Empire was torn apart by the greedy descendants of the Royal Family not long after that. But what would happen if Suzaku was no longer there, what would Lelouche do with himself? Would he become like C.C., wishing only to die through any means necessary? Would this be the last push over the edge?

Suzaku knew he was Lelouche's rock, the last thing his friend had to hold onto that wouldn't crumble with age and fade away. That was why he had to survive! He could already feel the Geass Lelouche had placed on him activating. He kept running, faster than before, and he felt like part of him was being locked away somewhere.

Over the years, he'd learned how to suppress his Geass, if just the slightest bit. He now had awareness of his own actions while under the Geass' influence, and could remember bits and pieces of what happened while under Lelouche's spell. He still couldn't do anything but comply though, his limbs were that of a puppet as he was tugged this way and that to fulfill his Master's wishes – not that he blamed Lelouche or anything, they had forgiven each other their past mistakes, bloodied paths and everything else that had once divided them.

The power the Geass had over him continued to grow as Suzaku ran. There was a part of him that insisted that he should drop the dead weight and save himself – _He had to survive! _– but the other part of him, the part that was still under Suzaku's own volition, ignored the power of the Geass as best he could. It hadn't taken over completely _yet,_ so he still had some control over himself.

He was almost to the edge of the village, the street he had been running on turning into a road that led out through the forest. The forest, mercifully, hadn't caught fire yet. If he could make it to the trees, away from the chaos and devastation, he and Lelouche would be fine – they could continue to live as they had, and Suzaku needn't worry about Lelouche doing something foolish in his depression and grief, because he would be there to stop it.

His plans however, were ruined, as someone cut off his escape route. Suddenly, a flash of bright orange light whizzed over the ex-soldier's head, hitting one of the trees at the side of the street. It burst into flames and fell across the street, directly cutting off Suzaku's bee-line for safety.

Laughter, malicious and disturbing, filled the air. Suzaku turned to face a man in a skull-mask, wearing a dark cloak that was almost exactly the same as the crazy woman had worn. A shiver ran down his spine. No, not now, he had been so close...

The smoke was not as thick here, and Suzaku was able to breathe a little easier here, though his lungs still stung with every rise of his chest. Lelouche still hung limply off Suzaku's shoulder, further worrying Suzaku for his friends condition.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the cloaked person – a man, his voice held a mocking, superior tone, and Suzaku knew instantly that this was a man used to having power over others – said arrogantly. "Did you think we'd let you get away that easily?"

Suzaku gritted his teeth – he had been _so close_, if this man hadn't stopped him, Lelouche and he would be safe once more and maybe he'd manage to get some help for the village people, but this monster wasn't going to let him go without a fight. The Geass was back, stronger than before, as if sensing the danger radiating from the man.

Lucius smirks behind his mask. This muggle was so stubborn, so stupid, clinging to a dead man when he could at least try to save himself. Heh, this would be almost too easy, but the desperate look on the muggle's face was entertaining enough for Lucius to cope. He was a bit bewildered by Bella's request to follow these two strays, but he guessed she simply didn't want any of their prey to slip through their fingers.

The Head of the Malfoy family raised his wand, aiming it at the boy's chest, before muttering the killing curse. "Avada kedavra!" flowed from his lips with practiced ease. The muggle-boy was frozen for a second – a second that would surely be his end – but then he erupted with movement. Suzaku jumped out of the way of the spell with surprising speed and agility – which annoyed Lucius greatly, because no muggle was allowed to survive his on-slough – and then dashed to the sidewalk, probably towards another escape route, but this muggle-boy had already insulted Lucius' pride, and the Death Eater wanted to avenge his wounded ego.

Suzaku, on the other hand, couldn't believe his luck. The Geass had almost completely taken over his mind back there, and he was a hairbreadth away from dropping Lelouche and – there was a groan. Suzaku almost stumbled in relief, but kept up his pace – there was psychopath in a skull-mask chasing him, after all.

"Lelouche!" he called his friend's name urgently, shaking his shoulders ever so slightly in an attempt to wake Lelouche up faster. "Lelouche!" there was another groan, but this time violet eyes slipped open groggily. "S-Su-zaku?" the voice was weak, and Lelouche sounded confused – he was probably disoriented, Suzaku deduced. Although, he had no more time to ponder on the other boy's condition, because the footsteps following them began to grown louder – and it didn't sound like it was just one person! Suzaku cursed silently – why were these weirdos taking such an interest in him and Lelouche? Did they _know_ who they were? The prospect was terrifying but highly unlikely. Then, was this just so there wouldn't be any witnesses? Suzaku still couldn't fathom why anyone would attack this village specifically, it was small and insignificant, which was exactly why Lelouche had picked it as the location of their new home (since they had to relocate every decade or two). Did that mean that these people had a grudge against the inhabitants of this town, was there some kind of blood-feud between them and another village or did someone simply want revenge?

Suzaku shook himself, and focused back on running. He was not the genius of their little duo, and besides, Lelouche would figure it more quickly than Suzaku ever could – though Lelouche was currently out of commission, so the role of Sherlock Holmes fell on Suzaku now (he was not as dimwitted as a certain raven-head liked to think! But he had to admit he preferred being Watson...).

Footsteps continued to drum behind Suzaku, but now it wasn't just from behind – but from the side as well. Before Suzaku could think of a plan of action, he was already surrounded. The cloaked occult – because Suzaku _really _couldn't think of anything else they could be – had those strange sticks of theirs raised and ready to blast that strange energy at him; it reminded him dulling of the laser-blasters Lloyd had engineered, it did resemble it slightly – was it some sort of advanced technology?

His Geass was screaming in his mind now – _Live! Live!_ _Live!Live!Live!LIVE!LIVE!__**LIVE!** _– and Suzaku found his legs moving a moment later without his permission – though, really, he could use the boost of both adrenaline and speed. They were in a narrow alley between two suburban houses, so Suzaku used that to his advantage by using his momentum to jump to one wall, and using the force of the impact to bounce off and to the other building's wall, repeating the process so he could just jump over the heads of his attackers.

No such luck, Karma really did seem to hate him.

Just as he was making the final jump, feet ready to start running the moment they hit the concrete, a red blast hit him in his right leg. Suzaku's eyes widened with the abrupt sensation of ice devouring his leg. He landed on the ground, but the leg that had been hit didn't seem to be functioning and, overbalanced, he toppled over.

Suzaku struggled uselessly in an attempt to get back up, but it was proving futile. He looked down at his right leg desperately, only to find that it looked completely normal, but he was still unable to move it – it felt almost like it wasn't a part of his body, and it reminded him dully of when the Geass took over him. Speaking of Geass, even it didn't seem to know what action to take to save Suzaku's ass – which only made more panic rise up in the Asian's gut. Lelouche seemed to have passed out again, but whether it was from his healing or something else, Suzaku couldn't tell.

Before Suzaku could do anything else, six burly men surrounded him and Lelouche in a small, tight circle. Suzaku grit his teeth as a man raised his stick-thing, a jet of light came out, which Suzaku was unable to dodge due to both due to his leg and the restricted space he was in – he'd be right at their feet if he rolled over! The light hit him, and then darkness quickly crept into his vision. Suzaku gripped Lelouche's shoulder feebly, his panic skyrocketing, but his Geass seemed to think there was no reason to intervene – no one was trying to kill him, yet, after all – and so the darkness of oblivion swallowed him.

The men around the duo, now that the threat had been neutralized, came to collect their praises. A short distance away, Bellatrix smirked in satisfaction. "Thank you, Lucius. I'll take it from here." she said to the man beside her. "You are not going to kill them?" The cloaked man – Lucius – who's face was still hidden behind his mask – questioned incredulously. Did she want to torture them then? The trouble they caused certainly did warrant punishment.

Bella's smirk grew, turning into a gleeful grin "Oh, I don't believe our Lord will be too pleased with us killing off such an interesting discovery!" Lucius raised an eyebrow behind his mask. What could she possibly mean by "interesting discovery"? There was nothing special about these two, except maybe that they were hard to kill, but that was beside the point. Malfoy's frown deepened "And what is this "interesting discovery", per say?" he asked cautiously.

Bella giggled – _giggled_, which either meant something wonderful had happened or they were all going to meet their doom very soon. Lucius shivered slightly, but Bella was completely oblivious to his reaction "Oh, it's such a delightful thing!" she babbled, like an excited school-girl "But I want to surprise our Lord, he'll be so delighted!"

Malfoy's wariness only grew. "You do realize, Bella, that if you are wrong, our Master will punish us all for our incompetence." Lucius said grimly, and felt his body tremble slightly at the prospect of being punished _again_, and it was well known that the Dark Lord was not merciful even on the most loyal of his subjects. He would not hesitate to "discipline" them. Another shiver crawled up Lucius' spine – he did _not_ want to go through that again.

This didn't seem to dampen Bellatrix's mood in the slightest "Oh, Lucius, lighten up!" she said with demented cheer, before sobering slightly at his deathly serious expression. Bella looked just about ready to pout. "If I'm wrong than our Lord will punish me," she said, shivering, she would _never_ intentionally fail her Lord – she would rather die than disgrace him with her failure. "but if I'm right, he'll reward me tremendously!" That was tempting, _very _tempting for someone like Lucius. He had fallen from their Lord's favor _–_ and not once, mind you _–_ and was treated as "expendable", which was a very, _extremely _bad thing for the whole Malfoy family. That meant Draco was expendable too! And if he got captured again by any remaining resistance force, he could expect the same warm welcome with which the Dark Lord would greet a traitor. Either way, he had hit a dead-end – if he didn't find a way to get back into his Lord's good graces he was doomed.

Lucius sighed, but could not find any fault in Bella's plan – it was a gamble, yes, but those who did not take risks did not earn anything. And Bellatrix was a grown woman, and the leader of tonight's mission, so whether he liked it or not he had to follow her orders.

A few minutes later the familiar pull of apparition filled Lucius' senses, and the Death Eaters, and their hostages, found their selves in just outside Malfoy Manor. They soon step across the vast property, across the well-trimmed laws and between well-kept flower-beds, and into the Entrance Hall of the grand Manor. They paused in front of the doors of the Great Hall, nowadays serving as a dining room, and Malfoy hesitated.

Bella pushed the door open.

The room was revealed in all its' shadowed glory, few candles were lit, and it was chilly inside it, colder than it was outside even. The Dark Lord sat leisurely at the head of the long, mahogany table, an air of superiority and quiet menace surrounding him. Severus was there also, standing to the left in front of Voldemort's throne.

He turned as the Death Eaters entered, dragging with them two dirty forms – Snape instantly recognized their clothing as muggle-wear, and his heart sunk, but his mask was as indifferent as ever. He could not help these people, if the Death Eaters had caught them, their fates were sealed. Four Death Eaters, two for each boy, held them by the forearms.

Voldemort raised a quizzical eyebrow, but there was also irritation evident in his eyes – he was not fond of muggles in his house, if he had not _specifically _told his followers to get some entertainment. The thought made Snape slightly sick – they were already torturing a young girl – a _teenager _– and an elderly man who might as well have been made out of paper!

Snape felt guilty for these boys, who looked no more than seniors at Hogwarts. It was such a sad thing; they would end their existence in pain and misery – tortured to death, most likely. He felt his heart mellow ever so slightly in grief – grief for a life wasted and destroyed, of lost chances and years that were yet to be lived – but he held on to his mask steadfastly, because these boys were not the first, and they certainly weren't the last, and he had to be strong, to endure, so he let another life be destroyed for the sake of the "Greater Good" Dumbeldor had preached about so much.

Bellatrix stepped forward "My Lord, I believe I have discovered something of immense value to you!" her tone was serious, but Severus could tell she was excited. Dread began to settle in his gut, whatever was about to happen, didn't bode well for the future.

A split-second later Bellatrix brandished her wand and a green jet of light went flying towards the raven-haired boy. Snape felt a face muscle twitch imperceptibly as the boy fell face-first onto the polished-wood floor. No one noticed his almost non-existent reaction though, too shocked by Bellatrix's sudden request: "Check the body." she said simply, but there was a definite undercurrent of excitement present. Severus was slightly dumbfounded. What could Bella possibly be up to? For his brilliant mind could come up with nothing – and that only served to increase the dread crawling around in his gut, like a monster waiting to devour him from the inside.

No one moved, stunned and disbelieving. The Dark Lord remained stoic, but it was obvious that he, too, was curious, and rather impatient. A few Death Eaters fidgeted slightly under his intense gaze, demanding information with unnatural crimson eyes.

"Check. The. **Body**." Mrs. Lestrange ordered with a sneer, her tone promising pain for those who dare challenge her. Instantly, a Death Eater – still masked, and Severus did not bother to identify him, he had more pressing matters to attend to – rushed forward and knelt besides the corpse of the boy. For the life of him, Snape could not figure out what was happening. Why was Bellatrix ordering a corpse to be checked right after killing the owner of the body? Why had she dragged this teenager all the way to the Manor if she was intending to kill him? Why leave him alive, only to kill him _here_? What was Lestrange thinking?

But then there was a surprised gasp, a quickly withdrawn hand and a strangled shout of "He- he's breathing!" and the world came to an abrupt stop. A stunned silence hung over them, and for a second Snape's thoughts were blank with shock. They all stood there, like statues – the sentence not registering in their minds. Confused, stunned, and holding their breath, as if one wrong move could somehow lead to catastrophe – they waited for the Dark Lord's reaction. And the only though in Snape's brilliant, quick, clever, pensive mind was: _This _**can't **_be happening!_ The dam broke and like an unstoppable tidal wave emotions battered away his shocked silence. _The boy is alive – _the thought reverberated inside Severus' skull – _the boy is alive – _over and over again because Severus still couldn't fully comprehend the implications of such a statement.

Then, Voldemort stood up, raising his want. There was a pause, before "Crucio!" he incanted. The body on the floor, with was in fact not a body but a _living person _still, screamed in pure agony. It was like a spell had been broken, both over him and the other Death Eaters – except Bella, who had a gleeful grin on her face.

Severus felt his insides grow cold. _No, please, this cannot be happening!_

The scream was so real, so _alive_, that it chilled Severus to the bone. That scream should not have existed, it should not have been torn from a body who's spirit had left it, it shouldn't have left a _corpse!_ But it was so undeniably _real, _echoing in it every other scream Severus had heard in all his time spent with the Dark Lord and his minions, bringing back the faces of the dead, unwanted memories, the things that made him hate himself every day of his existence – brought back _Lily's dead face _as he cradled her in his arms and cried and wished she could come back to him and that he _should have protected her_. That scream, that horrible, _wretched _sound, seemed to last an eternity – but the Dark Lord seemed to have grown bored with it and ceased his spell – and it stopped.

The next thing that registered was the Dark Lord's voice saying "I must conssider thisss... new turn of events..." the disfigured man paused thoughtfully – if one could call him that, Severus himself preferred _monster,_ but of course he never voiced his personal opinions (he was a spy, he had a masquerade to keep up) "And the other one has similar abilities, I presume?" The other one, right, Snape had all but forgotten about the other boy the Death Eaters had brought in.

Bellatrix stiffened, hesitating if only for a moment "I do not know, my Lord." she said honestly, and seemed very ashamed that she could not answer the question properly – she had always been the most loyal of them all. Voldemort seemed slightly annoyed by this – though not as nearly as he would have been under normal circumstances, and this could _hardly _be called normal. He made his way around the table to his Death Eaters then, and Snape too, crept closer slowly, cautiously.

Lord Voldemort cupped the raven-haired boy by the cheek, bringing his young face to the dim light of the candles. Snape silently studied his features – his eyes were closed tightly, and he was nothing special really, prettier than the norm, some might have considered him handsome, but nothing that would reveal something so... _disturbing _and _unnatural _and damn right _impossible _– were the first word that came to mind, though _miracle _was somewhere squeezed in there too, though _it_ ending up in the hands of a Dark Lord hell-bent on attaining immortality could hardly be called a _miracle_. Snape prayed that this was all just a bad dream, that he'd wake up back in the Headmaster's Quarters and gulp down five liters of dreamless-sleep-potion _at least _and hope he would not remember this_ dream _in the morning. Unfortunately, reality rarely had mercy for anyone.

Pale fingers stroked the raven's cheek, almost like a caress, before sharp nails buried themselves into the soft flesh of the boy's face. Violet eyes – bright and unnatural – snapped open with another howl of pain. The Dark Lord removed his fingers and Severus watched in morbid wonder as the cuts became non-existent and the boy's complexion became perfect once more – the only evidence of the small laceration a few splotches of blood. Unbelievable!

The Dark Lord just stood there for a moment, gazing into a pair of violet eyes that were quickly becoming both fierce and glaring. The Dark Lord stood up slowly, Nagini hissed as she hung over the armrest of the chair Voldemort had been sitting on not long ago, but he paid her no mind. His red eyes were too preoccupied with taking in the being before him.

"I am ssorry to have inconvenienced you, Immortal." Voldemort said finally, his voice diplomatic and suave, and Severus' could see the boy's face scrunch up ever so slightly. Immortal, it was hard to associate the ideal – because Snape had always known _nothing_ could last forever, that one day everything would come to pass, because that was the way the world worked, was it not? – with a mere human, let alone a pitiful sight as this teen. _No, _through Snape, _he must be older than that... _He looked hard at the young man on the floor, held tightly by the arms by two burly Death Eaters, and decided to focus on the eyes – because the eyes always revealed something that nothing else could. The Immortal Boy's eyes were unnatural, an unsettling shade of bright violet, narrowed and glaring and guarded – and yet looking so tired, the undeniable wight of times long past settling in their depth. Those were old eyes, eyes of a man who'd seen too much, gone to through many horrors and had many burdens pressed upon his chest – those eyes were not fit for such a youthful face. But could this... _being _really be called youthful? _I wonder how old he is... _Severus' found himself wondering, and it was shocking to even himself that he had accepted this new information so quickly. _But what other explanation do you have? _a snarky voice replied.

Voldemort's high-pitched voice broke through Snape's train of thought: "I am quite curiousss, how did you gain your immortality, or was it something you were born with? I doubt it, ssso what did you have to do to achieve it?" silence met his inquires. Two purple orbs watched the Dark Lord as Voldemort paced, his posture was tense, and there was a slight frown tugging at his facial muscles, but overall the boy was succeeding in being almost completely passive. Voldemort scowled slightly, carrying on with his theories, which the boy did not confirm or deny. His eyes roamed around the room every so often, lingering on his still unconscious companion every time, but he said nothing.

The Dark Lord was not done with his questions, however "I musst assk, does your companion ssshare the sssame abilitiesss as you?"

There was a pause. The boy was weighting his options, Snape realized, thinking of what answer would be best. If he stayed silent, the Dark Lord could take the answer as either affirmative or negative, and would most likely test out the truthfulness of either. By the slight twitch in the boy's stony expression, the tightening of his fist even as his arms were held tightly away from him, Snape deduced that the boy would not risk his companions life or safety. They were close then. It was a dead-end situation either way, there was no way that the Dark Lord would let him _or_ his companion go. He would not accept silence for his interrogation either.

"What would you do with my answer?" the Immortal Boy asked finally. His voice was guarded, and his tone slightly harsh, but the voice was refined, an echo of authority in it. The question genuinely surprised Severus – for one, it was as diplomatic as possible, revealing nothing; for another, it was strategically sound and completely logical – but from the minute hardening of the boy's facial features gave away his trepidation. His eyes wandered to the other boy, seizing him up. His skin-color, which was hidden underneath a layer of soot, was slightly different than the boy's – Asian? Perhaps. The lines of his face were harder than that of his raven-haired companion, his face was framed by curly brown hair, which was now matter in sweat and a bit of ash. In one word, he was the complete opposite of the other when it came to physical appearance.

The Dark Lord smirked slightly. "I wissh to become immortal myssself." Voldemort admitted "For a very long time, it hass been my dream to live forever." he explained, drawing himself to his full height with something akin to a boast. "I believe you could aid my in my quesst."

"And, how far have you gone in this quest of yours?" the Immortal trailed off, clearly searching for a name to dub his new captor with.

The Dark Lord complied, inclining his head slightly "I am Lord Voldemort." he introduced himself confidently, as if expecting the Immortal to already know of him.

Thin, black eyebrows rose in mild shock "Lord?" he questioned, before smirking. An unreadable emotion in his eyes, he said "Well, I have not met any Lords for a while now."

Then the Dark Lord Voldemort asked a question that had been nagging at him since his unexpected guests had arrived in the escort of his servants "What were you doing in a muggle settlement?" there was a slight undercurrent of accusation, quiet and barely there, amid the curiosity. Voldemort kept his voice low, an unsettling whisper spoken in a pleasant tone. The Immortal was unfazed.

"Muggle?" the boy – Immortal, and Severus still had a hard time wrapping his head about that – questioned after a moment's pause. That one, single word would prove to be his downfall. The Dark Lord seemed to had picked up on that fact as well. His crimson eyes sharpened, accusing and burning with anger "You do not know what a muggle is?" he demanded sharply.

A pause, "I am afraid I do not. Do you care to explain?" the tone was measured, passive and slightly curious – still diplomatic as before, though it's owner seemed to realize he was sinking deeper into dangerous waters. Voldemort's wrath simmered slightly, but a smile, twisted and slightly sadistic crossed his face. "The _muggles,_" he spat the word, as it were acrid on his tongue "are non-magical filth, things that are no more than dirt on the polished boots of us wizards." he said those words with a passion, a passion that stirred and drove his servants to do his bidding, to follow him and believe in his ideal blindly. Voldemort's tone was dangerously low, still in that high, shrill voice that was like nails on a chalkboard, when he sneered out his next words "The fact that you do not know about them leads me to believe you are one as well." abruptly, the Dark Lord changed the topic, keeping his voice ever-pleasant "Now, answer my first question, is the other boy ageless as well?" Silence and gritted teeth, and Voldemort knew the answer even if the Immortal had not uttered it out-loud.

He nodded to Bellatrix, who stepped forward without hesitation, drawing a small dagger from her cloak.

Violet eyes widened in alarm "NO!" the shriek ripped itself out of Lelouche's throat before he could stop it, his bluff wavering as his heart raced with panic. _No, please, not Suzaku!_ he thought desperately. He couldn not loose Suzaku, no matter what he couldn't let Suzaku die. He couldn't live without Suzaku at his side, there was no point in continuing his existence if he lost his best and only friend, his brother in everything but blood. Lelouche vi Britannia struggled uselessly in the arms of his captors, but to no avail. He could not touch them – the fabric of his shirt and their restraining hands preventing him from using one of C.C.'s abilities – to trap those she touched with her bare skin in a perpetual nightmare of their own creation. He was unable to do anything but trash in his captor's grips uselessly as Bellatrix Lestrange approached the unconscious – _helpless – _Suzaku – _and dammit just wake up, you idiot!_

Bella, however, only drew the blade across Suzaku's cheek – in clear view of both her Lord and his other servants – much like Voldemort, himself, had sliced Lelouche's. The boy did not stir. Suzaku's wound did not heal as Lelouche's did, and blood gushed out of it, trickling down the soot covered face and dirtying it further. The Dark Lord frowned thoughtfully, "I musst conssider thisss," he said at last. Almost as an afterthought, he added "Take thisss one to the dungeonsss." There was a moment of bewildered hesitation before the guards holding Suzaku complied and dragged Suzaku out of the hall. Lelouche felt a chocking lump settle in his throat – now that he could no longer see Suzaku, questions instantly swarmed his worried mind, questions like: _Is he going to be alright? What do they plan to do to us? Where are they taking him?! Their separating us!_

Voldemort was speaking again, though this time he was addressing his Death Eaters. "I wissh for sssome privacy while I continue my... invesstigation. I would prefer if you all left. Go back to your possstss, you as well, Severus, and I will call on you all when it is time to discuss thesse mattersss. Ssspeak of thisss to no one." The Death Eaters complied, too afraid to defy their Lord even with their nagging curiosity. Snape was the last one out, and for a wild moment, he considered finding an excuse to stay or eavesdrop – but quickly dismissed the idea as half-baked and stupid and one that would most likely get him killed. He could do nothing here. Without further adieu, he closed the door shut behind him.

Once the room was empty of all it's occupants, besides Voldemort, his Immortal prisoner and the two that held him in place, the Dark Lord began to pace around Lelouche – eyeing him as one would some_thing _of extreme value – possessively.

The Dark Lord was seizing up his prize. He – a boy, simple and dirty and with nothing to bring out the sheer power he must wield – was held securely in his minions grasp – in _his_ grasp. _  
><em>

An _Immoral!_

Voldemort could scarcely come to grips with himself – for kneeling before him was an _ageless_ man, an ancient, one who could not_ die_, a powerful entity disguised as a simple muggle – disgraceful! Why would anyone with such power lower themselves to the guise of a simple, pitiful _muggle?!_

Voldemort peered down at his prize – this fantastical creature, an _immortal_ being! – with nothing but obsessive fascination. A smile spread over his pale lips – perhaps, he had finally found the key to immortal life?

**xxxoooxxx**

**AN: Alea Iacta Est - lat. translation: "The die has been cast" or "The dice has been thrown" as said by Suetonius to Julius Caeser, signifying some sort of gamble has been made and the outcome is now in the hands of fate - or how I interpret it, anyway. ****A lot of foreshadowing in this chapter and dark stuff coming up in the future ones. I won't reveal anything else.**

**Please review!**


	3. Postcard from Hell

Postcard from Hell

Spane wanted to get drunk. So drunk, in fact, that he wanted to forget himself, the world, and any coherent statement his brain might have once produced. The universe was against him, clearly, or some higher-being found it very amusing to make his life more difficult than it already was.

Three days ago he had had a plan to go by, carefully constructed over years of preparation and cautious plotting.

Now he had nothing.

Every scenario, every possibility and counter-plan. Everything. All of it. Gone.

He'd have to start from scratch. Severus had to take matters into his own hands.

Some of his shock lingered even now. Another Boy-Who-Lived? Wasn't _one_ enough? One was more than enough, if Severus was concerned. But, how was it even possible? Questions swirled in his head, possibilities that all seemed impossible and theories that ended up too complicated for even the brilliant Potions Master to understand what he had originally wanted to say. His thoughts were a big mass of confusing the size of Hogwart's Giant Squid.

He drowned the rest of the Calming Draught he'd brewed for himself a while ago. It was one of the potions he kept a large stock of – like the anti-cruciatus potion and the like. Just in case. He _did_ end up using them more frequently then he would have preferred. Unfortunately, he'd run out of anything that could cure his horrendous headache. He had no time to dilly-dally! There were too many thing he had to do and time was short.

Dumbledor's plans needed to be changed, for no matter how genial the old man had been he certainly couldn't have foreseen this. He had to gather the Order of the Phoenix. Had to set up a resistance – he couldn't very well rely on Harry Bloody Potter to save the day! And from an _immortal_ Voldemort, no less!

He had to reunite the Order quickly and he knew the perfect way to do it too, even if it was extremely underhanded and could very well cause even more distrust – if that was even possible, he was a known Death Eater and the Order thought him traitor.

And that was the most frustrating thing of all! No one would believe him! The plan he and Dumbledor had concocted had been nothing short of perfection and very little could have ruined it, really. But then everything had gone so drastically, horribly wrong. Words couldn't describe how hopelessly angry that made him. He wanted to shout and scream at the heavens for being so cruel. But he deserved this. He knew he did.

He deserved to suffer, but that didn't mean any more innocents had to share his torment.

For the first time in a long time Severus wasn't sure what to do. It was frustrating and made him feel even more helpless. It made him curse the world and the fates and even Dumbledor for leaving him alone and dying.

He was truly alone, wasn't he? Would the Order even listen to his warnings? Would they shoot him on sight and would all the things he desperately needed to tell them die with him? Was the world truly doomed? No, he could let Riddle win. He wouldn't. He vowed with everything he was that he wouldn't.

Severus' headache only intensified the more he thought, and he groaned. The universe truly must hate him.

Snape knew this was a turning point in the war, a pin on the scales of victory, and he feared the odds are no longer in the favor of the Light.

* * *

><p>The dark cell was a mix of warping shadows and blurred, leering faces – sometimes laughing, sometimes mocking, but always bringing him pain. The sticky smell of blood lingered in the air almost constantly, and his screams joined it from time to time. Suzaku would often bite his lip in an effort to stay silent, trying with all his might never to utter a sound until his lips became bloody. He wouldn't give his tortures the satisfaction – but he couldn't help the periodical whimpers and gasps that managed to escaped him.<p>

Suzaku didn't know how long he'd been there, in the dungeons of some maniac's manor.

He'd lost track of time long ago, but he estimated that at least a couple of days had passed. There was no precise way to tell time, so Suzaku estimated the hours and days by the comings and goings of his "visitors", dreaded as they were.

However, he was not their only prisoner. Two others occupied this shadowed Hell and Suzaku was thankful that at least they didn't suffer as much as he did. One was a young girl, in her mid-teens most likely, and was certainly too young to be in this place. The other was an elderly man with an odd name – Ollivander, if he remembered correctly – that looked like he was made of glass and that a single harsh word could send him crashing to the ground in a hundred jagged pieces. One was much too young to endure this, the other too old. Suzaku was somewhere in the middle – though, one could quite honestly say that he was the eldest of the trio – but Suzaku was young in body but experienced in mind and would rather that he suffer instead of someone else.

Lelouche would have no doubt called him a masochist.

They were experienced when it came to torture – these, "Death Eaters", as they called themselves – Suzaku had realized long ago. He didn't like to dwell on how many had suffered at their hands, tortured and killed in this very dungeon, this very cell and the world outside it. Suzaku was not one prone to hate – Lelouche/Zero didn't count! Besides, it was in the past now. – but these people made him wish that there was still a Lancelot with which he could blow them up with. He wanted them to pay. He wanted them to feel the pain and–

– _oh, the pain!_

The pain whipped away all reason in a flash of crimson light, and as he withered on the floor, gasping and helpless, all Suzaku knew was the pain. It was like everything else was pushed out of his thoughts and he could no longer remember who was his torturer today or why was he even there and why was he suffering so much and feeling so much _pain?_

When the sessions ended and his senses came back to him however, Suzaku was filled with a feeling of guilt and shame. When had he become so _weak_?

He was once a Knight of the Round Table, once the Knight of Princess Euphimia li Britannia, the Knight of Zero, Zero himself – Lelouche's Knight! He hadn't gotten all of those titles just by sitting back and looking pretty – okay, maybe with Euphy, but that was beside the point. Where had all his strength gone? Where was his stubbornness and iron will? Where was the old Kururugi Suzaku? Where was the famed Zero? But most importantly:

Where was Lelouche?

Some knight was he, when he couldn't even protect his Emperor (_just like I couldn't protect Euphy)_. He was truly pathetic. He didn't deserve the life Lelouche had given him. He didn't deserve Lelouche's friendship. Who knew what they were doing to him now, while he lay bleeding and useless in a filthy cell?

The silence was maddening sometimes, especially when Ollivander and the girl, Luna, were asleep or wandering in some other area of the cellar adjoined to the dungeons. The Death Eaters must have thoughts that they were incapable of escaping on their own. Suzaku had to agree with them on that – even though he loathed having to agree with such monsters – but those two couldn't hold their ground against one Death Eater. They certainly wouldn't be able to escape a Manor full of those cloak-wearing bastards.

They weren't strong enough.

_He_ wasn't strong enough.

Oddly enough, whenever he thought of strength Kallen always seemed to pop into his head. Kouzuki Kallen, as she preferred to call herself, or Kallen Stedtfast as history had remembered her. Suzaku couldn't help but think that every historian in the world would have their heads ripped off if Kallen had been able to see the future.

It was ironic. The world remembered a woman who had been loyal to Japan, fought and slaughtered for it and its' freedom as a Britannian. Maybe it was better though, Suzaku mused, because the way people remembered her Kallen was a Britannian who fought the corruption of her own country and showed immense loyalty to it by destroying and reforming it. Yup, some historians would have _definitely _been a head shorter if Kallen had been psychic.

Still, he had enjoyed the redhead's company immensely in the years following the Zero Requiem. When they were still both mere mortals waiting on the edge of forever.

_Kallen's hand came straight up, cupping Zero's mask and ripping it off with such force it made the back of Suzaku's skull ache._

_They stared at each other, horror filled green into calm, stormy blue, before Kallen uttered three simple words "You're not him."_

The incident had happened on a New Year's Eve, little over three and a half months since the fall of the Demon Emperor. A few days earlier, Nunnally had introduced him to the idea of ridding the world of Knightmare frames – no, of erasing them from history completely.

It was actually quite well-thought out. Nunnally was planing on baning Knightmares from the military once they were the only ones who possessed the "murder machines" as she'd called them. Only the stronger rebel movements still had Knightmare Frames at their disposal besides the Military. The Britannians would take care of that first, while slowly decreasing their own number. They wouldn't be used if riots or protests broke out – even if the military was called in to assist the police. If there was a parade in honor of the Peace or Military, only few Knightmares would make the scene – stripped of their weapons, of course.

The public generally held a great dislike for the gigantic killing machines, but the shutting down of research facilities and laboratories that worked on improving and manufacturing Knightmares was still kept away from the public eye. A few months after being closed down, a fire would break out and swallow the building – with everything in it. That was when the lab was in a populated area, so the demolition would not arouse suspicion if everyone thought it was a simple (but tragic) accident.

The more secret labs were demolished by those in the 100th Empress most trusted circles, since only they could be trusted not to salvage anything from the ruins. Blueprints were destroyed. Evidence burned to the ground. Information on the machines strictly kept from the public.

Eventually, as the knowledge of such machines would fade with every new generation. Only those who had seen the Knightmares or those that had seen the consequences using those cursed weapons could bring knew they existed. Even in schools no pictures on the gigantic monstrosities were shown in the lectures or textbooks, the descriptions were vague and often referred to as the ultimate murder weapons. The only information available in such books was the death count the things had caused.

With such bad publicity and so little known about such things, Knightmare Frames would eventually fade from the minds of the new generations – but that would be after decades of work.

Even warships like the Avalon had been destroyed and almost erased as well. There was still the floating operations system, but the weapons, shields and even most of the more advanced designs had been destroyed.

On that New Year's Eve though, the idea was still fresh and new and looking absolutely impossible to accomplish.

Nunnally was safe with the Royal Guard and after the opening ceremony, she had told him (Zero, as that was the only thing that he could have called himself then. Kururugi Suzaku hadn't existed then and wouldn't for a long time. Not until Lelouche revived his true self under the mask he himself had placed on his friend's face) to try and relax. She'd be fine anyway, all of her guards were approved by Zero himself and were completely trustworthy.

Zero had decided to take the advice and went out on the open balcony with a bottle of campaign. He could stand to be in a room full of so many familiar faces – from people he had considered friends, allies, colleagues, enemies and comrades. It was all a bit too much when he added how it only served to remind him of his grief (back then, he had still thought Lelouche was truly dead by his own hands).

Lelouche should have been able to see this. It was because of Lelouche that they could be happy in this new world – a world Lelouche had created by sacrificing himself.

He should have been to see this.

Zero sighed, popping the bottle open and filling his glass with the golden liquid. He wasn't planning on drinking much. He just needed something warm and burning down his throat to distract himself from everything that wasn't right in the world.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" a voice from behind him said lightly but Zero tensed nonetheless, silently cursing himself for letting his guard down. Fortunately, the voice was a familiar one – one he could trust.

"I wasn't really looking, Kouzuki-sama." It still felt strange to call her that but Kallen was now a War Hero, well-respected within the Palace and Military and idolized by the public – not as much as Zero, but still quite famous. She was Nunnaly's official Knight, after all.

Zero may have been Nunnally's Protector, but Kallen was hailed the Knight.

There was a chuckle as Kallen leaned on the stone railing next to him, holding a half-empty glass of her own. "Hello Zero," she greeted, receiving a nod in return. "Not feeling very talkative now, are we?" she said jokingly. Kallen was really the only one who could use that tone of voice with him, it was improper but it still felt nice to be talked to as if he were an actual human being – not that Nunnally treated him as anything else.

But Kallen... Kallen was more informal, somehow easier to speak to even if the topics weren't concerning political happening or the like. Things had been tense in the beginning, what with him murdering Lelouche and knowing she harbored feelings for him. It seemed she had overcome her grief however, for their relationship had gone from confused, doubt-filled stares and cold-shoulders to a more verbally open one.

She was dressed in a Britannian style dress. Red lace with a black shawl over her shoulders. It gave the effect of elegance while not being overbearing and Kallen had even managed to throw in her favorite passionate red into the mix. The sight had brought a small smile to Suzaku's mouth.

Kallen swirled the liquid in her glass so it sloshed from side to side – wine, Zero noted – and stared into it as if it held all the answers to the universe "Hey, can I... ask you something?" her voice was quiet and unreadable, but the unusual request made Zero pause. This was strange. Usually, if Kallen needed to say something she'd have already said it. Kallen wasn't the time to beat around the bush. So, why the hesitation?

He decided to tread carefully. Kallen was a pretty unpredictable person and while he doubted she'd punch/kick/decapitate him he was still wary of the time she had tried (and succeeded, in her and everyone's else's minds) to kill him. Better be safe than sorry. "Depends on what it is." He answered diplomatically.

A faint scowl crossed Kallen's face, the expression didn't really suit her. She seemed old when she wore it, hateful, worn, angry at the world, perhaps even bitter. Then it was gone, replaced by that unreadable look again. "Could you... take me to... Lelouche's grave?" she made too many pauses for Zero to not begin to doubt if this was truly Kallen and not an impostor, but the request chased away any doubts.

Zero hadn't really managed to comprehend what she had said, jarred as he was by her words. He just stood there, dumbfounded and his brain working furiously to understand what had just happened.

Kallen, taking the silence as a negative, cringed slightly. Her eyes softened, a lost and pleading look that was such a contrast to the scowl she had worn just a few moments ago "Please," she said, _begging_ almost, and the fact snapped Zero out of his daze. "Please, I'll never tell anyone! You know I won't!" Kallen had screwed her eyes shut, her voice fluctuating with the desperation she felt. And seeing Kallen – strong, courageous Kallen – looking like a lost child on the verge of tears made the decision for Zero.

About two hours later, they had found themselves in a public graveyard where most of the soldiers – both Brittanian and those who had perished fighting against the Demon Emperor – were buried.

The grave they stood before was indistinguishable. The slab of black marble engraved with a name of someone who's body had never been found. Still no one would guess that this grave belonged to Lelouche vi Britannia. Jeremiah had been quite meticulous when choosing a burying place and Suzaku was thankful. At least no one would come to destroy or sacrilege the grave sight.

At his side, Kallen stood staring down at the grave. The blackness of the stone seemed to merge with the darkness of night, as if to further hide it from their sights.

Kallen uncorked the bottle she'd brought with her from the car, handing one of the glasses to him. Zero took it deftly and Kallen poured them both a drink before raising her glass in the air, a melancholic expression on her face.

"A toast!" she proclaimed, gently scraping the two glasses against one another with a reverberating chime. "To Lelocuhe." She said, her voice quieter as she brought the dark red drink to her lips.

Suzaku gulped down a wave of renewed grief, muttering a soft "To Lelouche," before taking a sip of the wine himself.

One glass had then turned into two, then three, as they continued to rise them in respect of the fallen. "For Lelouche", "For Naoto", "For Genbu", "For Euphimia" and so on until they were both tipsy and then drunk and repeating names they had already shouted to the heavens before.

"For us." Kallen had uttered at the end of it. Zero had raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "For us?" he asked.

Kallen had nodded, smiling drunkenly with unfocused blue eyes "Yeah, for us who were left behind. Who gave everything for someone who left us on our own." Then her hand was unclasping his helmet before Suzaku's reflexes, sluggish from the alcohol as they were, even registered the movement.

The cold night air assaulted his face and he was momentarily stunned. Kallen had looked at him then, seeing the grieving and broken man hiding behind the hero's visage. Face pale from lack of sunlight, green eyes unfocused but somehow still smoldering with sadness.

Kallen had smiled but her expression was somehow both knowing and longing at the same time.

"You're not him," three little words that they both would have done anything to change. They both wanted Lelouche back, both ached from the same hole in their chests. They had loved him, even if their loves had differed from one another.

They'd stumbled back to the car some time later that was absolutely too hazy for Suzaku to recall clearly.

The driver, thankfully, hadn't asked any questions on the way back. He felt so exhausted when they had arrived at the Royal Palace that he had immediately gone to his chambers, threw his accursed mask on the bedside-table and collapsed on the bed.

He hadn't realized that he was crying until his pillow became wet from the tears.

After that, he had avoided Kallen like a plague and Kallen, surprisingly, seemed to have been doing the same thing to him – that is, until Nunally proved that she was indeed Lelouche's sister with a cunning little plan to glue them together.

"_I _was _the captain of Zero's personal guard." she smirked "And it does seem like you need a babysitter."_

Nunnally had sent them both to take care of a raising rebel movement in Central Asia, one of the few that still possessed illegal Knightmare Frames. They'd been there a few months. The rebels were losing, slowly but surely, and when they had been certain they had no force with which to retaliate – the Royal Army had struck. Zero had lead the charge, Kallen stayed behind in camp with the wounded and the reserve corpses.

Zero's forces had been ambushed.

The rebels had apparently planned to appear smaller than they actually were, hiding about six thousand soldier from the Military's sights. They had been surrounded and badly outnumbered. Backup was too far away and wouldn't make it in time.

But they had.

Kallen had stormed in with her custom-made Gurren Mark-III and fought with a fire not many could survive. A lot of rebels had turned tail and ran just at the sight of the infamous Knightmare Frame that day.

The damage the Central Asian Rebel Movement (CARM, for short – he could still remember Kallen snorting at the name and saying that people didn't have any taste anymore. "Black Knights" had been much more catchy, she'd insisted) had taken too much damage to instigate a true rebellion – but both Zero and Kallen had been required to stay there a few weeks longer.

Kallen had saved his ass that day, which was yet another irony, because hadn't she blasted him halfway across the country in a steaming chunk of metal just short of two years ago? But then again, they were both bull-headed, so in their effort to not be alone in their misery – to have someone share in their grief for Lelouche – they might have overlooked the fact that they were once mortal enemies.

Suzaku had once joked that it was a mask fetish, Kallen had beaten the shit out of him.

Kallen, fierce, independent, loyal, strong. Why couldn't he be at least half the person she had been?

Suzaku thought of his former teacher, Todoh, and wondered what he would have done if he had ever found himself in a situation similar to this – arguably, he had, just without the torture part. He had been awaiting execution but he hadn't tried to escape, accepting and regal in the face of his imminent death. Suzaku liked to think he would have had the grace of his _sensei_ when the Britannians had been carting him off for execution, when Lelouche had made his first public appearance as Zero – but today, almost two centuries later, it wasn't his life on the line. It was Lelouche's. It was Lelouche these Death Eaters were trying to recruit, or more likely to control, or even attempt to steal away his power or make a contract with him.

Lelouche wouldn't make a contract with them though, of that Suzaku was sure. Lelouche had sworn to himself, and repeated to Suzaku at least hundreds times in the last few decades alone, that he would _not _under any circumstances curse any individual with the Geass.

After the destruction of the Geass Order and since C.C. passed her to code to him, Lelouche was the only Coder left in existence – and he had no plans of passing that legacy to anyone, even if it prevented him from finally dying.

It was ironic really, that they both wanted to die, but, then again, Suzaku figured that was reason they were still alive.

It was their punishment for ruining so many lives.

* * *

><p>Lelouche was not the type to fret often. If ever. Which was highly unlikely because he was the type of person who liked to be in control. Meaning that he always knew what he was getting himself into, what conditions would surround him in whatever situation he was likely to find himself in and how to escape or twist them to his own favor.<p>

He didn't have any of those things now.

Lelouche didn't know where he was. He only had vague information about his captors and their goals. He didn't know what they had at their disposal. Didn't know how many of them there were. He didn't know.

_He didn't know!_

Blasted wizards!

Lelouche vi Britannia without a plan? Preposterous! But it was true. It was real. It was happening and Lelouche was helpless.

He wondered if C.C. had felt like this in Clovis' lab.

Lelouche was chained to a wall, locked in a dark room with no furniture or windows and while it wasn't like how C.C. had been strapped to a table with scientists ripping her open – well, Lelouche couldn't really say he was happy with his accommodations.

He knew he was being watched, even though there were no cameras or other means he was familiar with when it came to spying. They were most likely watching him through some magically influenced way, but the strange ceiling made him suspicious as well. Actually, every wall was a bit strange, made of some material Lelouche had never seen before. Did it function like a one-way looking glass? He wondered. Maybe. It was the most reasonable explanation he could come up with.

He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what they were doing to him either. There was a lot of flashes of light – spells – and they did scans with their sticks – wands – murmuring strange incantations and making him drink strange liquids – potions, maybe poison even – to see how he would react.

He had died a few times during his stay actually, which he now calculated was about a week, six days to be precise.

His captors visited him thrice a day among the constant scurrying of the magical scientists observing him. They asked questions, always the same in different wording. They always told him their Master wished to speak with him and if he would be as kind as to accept the invitation.

He would be silent. He was almost always silent, except when his dialogue was carefully constructed to extract information from the people holding him here.

The "Death Eaters" – and honestly, did they not realize how redundant that sounded? "Death Eaters"? Does anyone in this century still have good taste? – had told him he was being held in the Ministry of Magic, which was under their Master's control, and that they would extract the answers out of him whether he talked or not.

How could he have missed something _that_ big? The Ministry of MAGIC?! It frustrated him to no end. He had been the Emperor of Britannia, had ruled the entire world! So how could an entire _magical world _escape his notice?!

Lelouche'd taken to ignoring the scientist running their little experiments on him while he brooded. He was brooding by nature and kind of missed Suzaku's reprimands and attempts to cheer him up. That lovable idiot just had to be _that _caring.

But now he wasn't there and that made unease wash over Lelouche like a tidal wave.

One of the things he both hated and was thankful for was all the time he had to thinks, since one couldn't really do anything else while chained to a wall. Lelouche thought of ways to escape, ways to incapacitate the scientists (or whatever they called themselves) long enough to get away. But there was a massive flaw in every of his plans:

Suzaku.

They had Suzaku. Lelouche shivered, remembering with dread the time they had used that advantage over him.

_He'd been rebellious, which in Lelouche's book meant he'd been stupid. Being stupid wasn't a thing Lelouche Lamperouge made a habit of. Period. But today he had been extraordinarily, unbelievably _stupid! _Which was why he was now staring at a picture held bare inches from his face, utterly horrified._

_It wasn't so much the fact that the picture was _moving _– he'd found that that was the way pictures were when influenced by magic – but rather the horrible image it was showing him._

_Suzaku, chained to a wall in a similar fashion to himself, hanging limp in his restraints with the shackles digging into his skin and making small trickles of blood oozing down the bruised skin of his forearms. The rest of him was even worse._

_Lelouche felt his breath quicken, coming in short, heavy pants. He wanted to scream._

_The floor in the picture was stained with blood; wounds covered Suzaku's torso, and while Lelouche could just make out that they weren't life-threatening they certainly must be painful to bear... and if they got infected – no, Lelouche don't go there! Suzaku would be okay! Suzaku would survive! He had to._

_And Suzaku appeared to be unconscious in the picture, and there was a dry red stain on his cheek, almost completely concealed by filthy, matter hair. This only intensified Lelouche's fear – because Lelouche _was _afraid._

_Then the other person in the photo caught his attention. She was clad in a black dress and was blocking his view of the right side of Suzaku's body. She raised her wand and Lelouche saw Suzaku's eyes open wide with panic and pain and a scream that Lelouche hadn't expected to hear. He didn't want to hear. He didn't want that atrocious sound to exist!_

_Then it stopped, and Suzaku slumped in his restrains once again, a resigned look on his face that left Lelouche desperately trying to think of a way to alleviate his friend's pain even though Suzaku wasn't even beside him in reality. No, Sazuku was somewhere else. Suzaku wasn't here._

_How... how dare these creatures do this to Suzaku?! How dare they touch him!_

_He hadn't realized he had been screaming in rage until a hand connected with the side of his face._

_"Be quiet." The man holding the picture barked, gazing at him with cold eyes full of satisfaction. The man had long, pale blond hair that had once been common in Britannian fashion and gray eyes. Lelouche vowed not to forget this man, for he would make him pay dearly for what he had done. As all Death Eaters would. As the Dark Lord will. _

_"You were the one who brought this about by being uncooperative. We see that interrogating you won't get us much information," the blond man pulled the two corners of the photograph he was holding apart, ripping the picture right in the middle, so the Suzaku in the picture was no split in half and the thing had actually began wailing. The sound hurt Lelouche's ears more than any gun, wand or sword ever could. The Death Eater smiled cruelly at his reaction "however, I doubt that you want to hurt your friend more than you already have."_

It was a bluff, it had to be. But what if it wasn't? What if they went through with it?

_No, Suzaku is their best bet against me – it would be foolish to..._ Lelouche swallowed internally, _get rid of him._ Still, the nagging doubt lingered at the back of his mind, constantly reminding him he could be wrong.

He was helpless. He didn't know what to do. All the information he needed he didn't have. Lelouche didn't have Suzaku either. It was the one thing that had come out of that awful incident with picture, when Lelouche had glanced the consequences of any rebellion on his behalf.

Suzaku wasn't here. Suzaku wasn't in the building. But if he wasn't in the building, why would it be a problem to transport him here? This _was _the Ministry of Magic, wasn't it? Which only meant one thing, it was a risk. Did the Death Eaters expect Suzaku to find a way to escape? No. As far as he'd seen they were an overconfident bunch and it was painfully obvious that Suzaku couldn't fight them in his current state – which lead Lelouche to his next deduction: someone was in their way. Rebels? Most likely.

Then, if Lelouche managed to escape and team up with these rebels, maybe he could get rid of this obnoxious "Dark Lord" – but, what of Suzaku? If Lelouche escaped, which he had yet to think of a way to do so, then Suzaku would still be in the clutches of the Dark Lord and their torturers would surely turn their anger on Suzaku.

There were too many "what if"s and unknowns for Lelouche to be confident in any of his plans. Besides, Suzaku could have been anywhere in the country. How would Lelouche get there in time to get them both out unharmed if he didn't even know where Suzaku was being held?

Lelouche sighed and closed his eyes. He could deal with the pain, the incessant prodding and spells that went from tingly to agonizing and the bitter tasting potions. He could even deal with being sliced open. What Lelouche couldn't deal with, however, was not knowing and consequentially fretting over his best friend. He loathed being so helpless.

And if he did manage to escape, if he met up with these curious rebels or even if he gave Voldemort what he wanted – if he formed a contract with him – it was questionable as to what fate would befall his best and only friend.

Lelouche couldn't risk it.

He couldn't risk losing Suzaku.

* * *

><p>The imposter of one Mafalda Hopkirk, employee of the now corrupt Ministry of Magic, was appealed to say the least. So shocked in fact, that she almost gave herself away to the ministry official besides her. It was a good thing Hermione Granger was such a cool-headed individual.<p>

It was also a good thing that she hadn't dropped the coffee she'd been carrying.

From what her furiously working brain had managed to gather, she was part of some sort of research division, but Mafalda was obviously minor in whatever they were doing down there in the Department of Mysteries – since she was, after all, carrying coffee. Commander-in-Chief of the Improper Use of Magic Office obviously didn't get her very far. Still, she had wondered what someone working in a department for misuse of magic would be going down in the Department of Mysteries.

A shiver ran down her spine, both from the low temperature and the memories the familiar rotating room brought up. But it was when they entered the research area that Hermione almost dropped the tray she'd been carrying in horror.

The room she and her companion had just walked into, him holding the door for her, appeared to be for observation. The thing – no, _person _– they were observing made her stomach crunch uncomfortably.

A man, who looked not much older than her, sat on the floor of a cube-like box – _prison _– chained to the wall behind him and glaring at the door in front of him. His cloths were ripped and marred with blood, but he didn't seem to care, simply continuing to glare at the door.

Did he not see the people outside? Why couldn't he see them?

_See-through holding chamber, _her mind supplied through the numbness that was quickly swallowing her thoughts, _generally used to contain extremely dangerous magical creatures and for observation from a safe distance. _She had read about those in "Curious Creatures You Should Hope Never to Meet and How to Observe Them", the title had been a bit contradictory, but the book had been overall enjoyable.

But... this wasn't some creature – and even if it was, it was inhuman to keep something locked up like that! – this was a _person!_ But, why would the Ministry put a person in such a cell?

Hermione's eyes widened in horrid realization. They were experimenting on humans! The _Ministry of Magic _was _experimenting on humans!_

_Humans _as in live human beings that could talk and walk and feel like any other person on the street. How could they do this?! This was inhuman! This was morally wrong! This was... This was...!

"Ah, it seems we aren't making any progress, as usual," the man – Travers, she'd forced herself to remember – muttered "The Lord will not be happy." Hermione tried uselessly to get her expression under control. The man was a Death Eater! This situation couldn't get any worse!

Travers, mercifully, didn't seem to have noticed her distress. He took the tray from her hands, setting it on a nearby table with a chorused "Thanks!" from a few workers – _working on torturing other human beings! _ Hermione thought in a mix of fury and disgust.

Then Travers did something Hermione hadn't expected at all. He strode to the holding chamber in the center of the cavernous room, opening the door determinedly and stepping inside.

Hermione blinked before curiously creeping forward, towards the holding cell. It made her furious than anyone was treated so badly, but her hatred only intensified the closer she got to the prison. She made it just in time to catch a glimpse of the man – a true look, not spying through the see-through walls – before Travers stepped out, sighing as if disappointed. It only served to agitate her further, though she had managed to get her expression under control by now.

Travers turned his attention back on her then "Come," he said with feigned politeness "it seems we are not needed. Besides, it's so chilly here. I'll leave you to your paperwork in your office so you can warm your old bones."

She nodded numbly, turning on her heel as he passed her and heading out the door.

The old-woman's impostor sent one last look over her shoulder, though the horror was much less obvious, overwhelmed by a concerned, pitying look. Still, she could do nothing to help the imprisoned man now. She only hoped that he would last long enough for Voldemort's fall, then she'd come here and would personally make sure every person who had been put through this would be free. Hermione couldn't stand the though of how much the man must be suffering right now. She hoped he could hold on until then...

…_or that his death was a swift one._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hallelujah! I can't believe I finally found the time to write this! You wouldn't believe how busy I am now! Which unfortunately means it's going to be a while until the next update - I probably won't have much time to write until the end of May, so don't expect any updates until then (excluding some one-shots that I've already written down, but nothing for this fic).<strong>

**Mostly filler, but we're slowly setting the stage for the real action and I could help myself from putting some Kallen/Suzaku interaction in the first flashback! Those two are my favorites in CG after all! :)**

**On another note, I've been getting comments that this is pretty confusing, and I'll be the first to admit that it is. But, someone mention in a review that humanity couldn't have forgotten it's advanced society, especially in two centuries.**

**Well, it did once, didn't it? Have you heard of the Roman aqueduct? ****The middle ages didn't even have proper bathrooms, let alone plumbing. Not to mention school was unheard of, while in Ancient Athens(I'm jumping from Greek to Roman culture, but they're both good examples) every man was required to know how to read and write. When the West Roman Empire fell in 476 and all the Germans and other clans came, they forgot that the society before them and all of their achievements. The Romans knew how to work hydraulics, for crying out loud!**

**So no, I can't fully agree with the prospect of humans not forgetting something like that – though I think it's less likely now(and I'm squeezing it in a shorter period of time). Still, this is fiction, I have some liberty to twist the facts a little. BUT, keep in mind that things aren't exactly the same as in the Harry Potter universe. The changes made to unite the HP and CG universes will be introduced slowly, because the focus will probably be on other things at times.**

**Anyway, for those of you who review, faved and follow this, I can't tell you how happy you make me! I hope you'll leave me a review this time too! Was it good? Was it bad? Tell me, please! I don't bite!**

**'Till next time!**


	4. The Enemy of my Enemy

AN: Sorry for the long wait guys, I've been incredibly busy these past few days - but on a more important note:

**I would like to ask for a moment of silence for all the people who had drowned, all the families that were left homeless, all the people who are now basically bankrupt and all the farmers who were left with dead livestock and ruined fields in the recent floods in the Balkans. This is for you.**

* * *

><p>The Enemy of my Enemy<p>

It was a cloudy day in Eastern Wells that greeted the non-visible sight of an invisible tent. Inside this magically expanded tent, three young, haggard and worn vigilantes were preparing for yet another day of changing locations and looking for clues on the horcruxes. This morning rituals was accompanied by the usual groans and complaints as they sat together to eat their meager breakfast (courtesy of Hermione, who'd gone to the supermarket a few days ago when they were actually in walking distance of a town).

The dreary atmosphere was interrupted only when Harry raised his head, frowning. "What's that noise?" this made the other two perk up, and prompted Ron to stop complaining about the food. They fell silent, listening if the sound would come again.

A few seconds passed, before the rustling of long, unkempt grass reached them. A few months ago, they might have written it off as a small forest animal foraging – but months on the run had made them all cautious and extremely paranoid – which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Almost as one, they crept to the front of their make-shift home, wands drawn. Hermione used hers to push open the flat slightly, peering out at the world beyond. The two boys behind her held their breath.

"Looks like there's just one of them. A man." The bushy-haired witch whispered after a while, frowning and scooting in a position that would allow her to see the intruder better. He appeared to be a grown man, though his features were blurred from the light fog that had settled in with the morning.

"We can pounce him." Ron whispered from his post next to her, glancing out a bit nervously – but sounding determined.

Hermione frowned, ever the voice of reason. "What if he's a Death Eater?"

Ron seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then shrugged "One Death Eater less to worry about."

Harry couldn't agree more. Finally, he could do something, however small, to truly fight back. And maybe it was the anger and frustration talking, but Harry didn't really care. "Besides, he's headed here." He heard Ron murmur "He's going to uncover us any minute now, so we should use the element of surprise while we still have it." Hermione didn't seem all that pleased with his plan, but made no further protests.

The man drew nearer and nearer, and as he did Harry pondered that it was more likely that the man was a farmer, out and about for whatever reason in the early morning. The bitter, more cautions part of him screamed to not let his guard down. What if it was a trap? What if they were found out? Scenarios kept popping into his head as he and his two companions waiting for the person to come into hexing range.

The closer he got, the easier it was for Harry's sharp gaze to analyze him. Harry's brow furrowed. There was something familiar about the way the man walked and held himself, and the coat he was wearing... was that...?

Harry heard Hermione casting a discreet spell to dispel the fog slightly, so that they would be given a better view of the intruder and if he were wizard or muggle – he'd just think the fog was slowly starting to disperse.

Harry moved a bit closer, leaning over Ron's back. That's when he saw it. His green eyes widened, because standing there was...

"Lupin!"

* * *

><p>TWO MONTHS EARLIER<p>

Remus Lupin was not an aggressive man by nature – despite what most of the Magical Community, and himself at times, had to say. Nymphadora would have just called them – and him, if it was under those circumstances – idiots. So, it was honest to say Remus was not an aggressive _man _by nature – an aggressive werewolf, well, that was another story.

And while he was not an aggressive person, per say, he was an extremely protective one. He had always valued the lives of others before his own – he would have given his life for either James or Sirius or even, and it pained him to say this, Peter once. But now they were all dead, all except Wormtail who too, in a way, was dead to him.

But it was okay, he reasoned – not alright, not just yet – but okay. Now he had Nyphadora and in a few months he'd have a child to keep them both company. He was sure his friends would have been happy for him if they could see him. He knew Harry was, and God knew how much the boy meant to him.

Harry, Nympadora, their child – they were the most precious things he had, the only things he had left in his life. They were the people that gave him his hope, his will to fight.

Now Harry was who-knows-where, on the run, with only Ron and Hermione as backup and being chased by half the nation – the part that wanted his head on a stake. Suffice to say, it was a fact that often kept Remus up at night.

Now, in this precise moment in time, Lupin's protectiveness was at its' peak – as was his panic.

"Nymphadora! Nymphadora! Answer me!" he hollered as he ran through the house – the house of her parents, caring and supportive and good people and how in the world was he going to tell them their daughter was _missing?!_ No one answered back.

Ted and Andromeda had gone out to buy groceries a scarce twenty minutes ago, and his wife had stepped out some time before that. He couldn't even remember why, his thoughts too muddled by his panic. _She was nowhere in sight._

He'd known fright in his life before, fear for someone else's –

But this... this was... terrifying...

Because, sitting inconspicuously on his dinning table was innocent piece of paper, blank save for a few, life-wrecking words that hadn't even made sense the first time he'd read them:

_Orderly meeting, one on one. Nymphadora volunteered to make tea – hurry up before it gets cold._

* * *

><p>The ancient building reeked of dust, mold and decay. The abandoned house – house, for it was never truly a home – was haunted by eerie silence. Only the quiet footsteps of a lone slave, desolate as the empty corridors he trudged through, could be heard and only if one was to strain their ears. The small creature was muttering to itself darkly as he limped.<p>

"Stupid, stupid. Why did the vile man come? Stupid. Ville man will ruin Krecher's good work..."

The dark man, one he'd had high hopes that would chase away all the foul blood-traitors that irked his Mistress (but they had been dashed soon enough) had appeared earlier that day, come to disrupt the peace his Mistress could finally enjoy.

"Vile, bad goodie-goodie."

Severus Snape had pointedly ignored him when he'd come in with an unconscious woman levitating serenely behind him, had barely spared the pathetic creature a glance bar to order him to the darkest recesses of the house so he would not cross paths with the guest the foul man was awaiting.

Snape was now pacing the length of the library – the slightest of frowns of his face. It was the only give-away of his inner-turmoil. His thoughts raced with anxiousness as they went over his plan a hundredth time, searching for flaws, drawbacks, risks –

But the entire Wizarding World – no, the entire _World_ – was at stake if Voldemort got his hands on the secrets of his newest pet-project. It was worth the risk, but Severus's cynical mind couldn't help but point out that if he died here – though he doubted it, Lupin may have had experience in battle, but it was Snape who knew all the quirks of the trade – but if he really did die here, before even managing to pass on his knowledge to the only Order member he knew would have the sense to listen to him – then the World was truly doomed.

Then Lily's sacrifice was for nothing. Then his atonement was for nothing. Then Dumbledore's forgiveness was for nothing. Then all of this, every bloody aching moment groveling at the Dark Lord's feet, shipping his secrets discreetly to the Light, his only purpose for existing now – was for nothing.

Then all those efforts were wasted, useless – and he had been useless as well. So no, as far as Severus Snape was concerned he was not dying here and the past two decades of his life were not wasted – besides, he owed Dumbledore too much to just lay down and die.

The door downstairs slammed open suddenly, signaling the beginning of the end. The loud _bang _that echoed all around was not at all discreet, but then again it _was_ a Gryffindor that had charged through it like a chicken without a head.

Lupin, at least, had sense enough to remember where the Order members used to drink tea, and soon enough he was bursting through the double-doors of the library. A savage look was in his eye – a look that reminded Severus too much of his nightmares, of bloodthirsty eyes and hauling – but he refuse to be cowed, even if the sight made him want to take a step back.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" the bellow was almost animalistic, but the words were easily discernible. "WHERE'S MY WIFE?!"

Snape simply raised an indifferent eyebrow, gesturing to the couch a mere few feet away from the both of them. Gryffindoors, such loud creatures. Though he didn't often recognize Lupin as a Gryffindoor, because the man had some common sense and was distinctly lacking a few Gryffindoor-ish qualities that irked him the most. The werewolf would have been better off if he'd been sorted in some other house, really.

He saw Lupin deflate almost instantly, though he remained on guard and alert – a wise move, but one he did not have the time or patience to deal with.

"Lupin," he intoned levelly. The werewolf raised his head from his spot next to the couch, eyeing him warily. "I have brought you here to discuss a rather alarming occurrence." Snape wasn't at all fazed when Lupin began to shout, launching into a full on tirade of how foul and evil this way and how he though Snape was above it and how wrong he'd been about him etc. – it honestly didn't have much effect on Snape if Dumbledore wasn't the one saying such things. Still, the yelling was beginning to get on his nerves, and he had to fight not to sigh in exasperation.

"… and why isn't Nymphadora waking up? Why can't I move her?!"

Snape really did sigh this time. This was going to be a very long, very tiring explanation.

"I gave her the Drought of the Living Dead." he said nonchalantly and felt satisfaction when the other man fell silent, eyes wide in horror. Good, now that he'd finally gathered the werewolf's attention... "As for moving her, I placed an enchantment on her. She isn't going anywhere until you hear what I have to say."

"I believe it is in your best interest to listen," he continued, walking slowly towards the table in the middle of the room. He could feel Lupin's sharp gaze burning holes into him. "for I believe you do not wish to see the day that the Dark Lord would become invincible."

From his seat, he could see the blatant shock covering the sickly man's features. "What do you mean?" he asked breathlessly, and Snape recognized the desperation in his voice – the wish to deny Snape's words. Severus couldn't allow it.

"I suggest you take a seat." he drawled. He had not said it out of courteously, but he'd rather not have Lupin faint on the floor. The werewolf glared, but did as instructed.

When Lupin was seated, Snape let his shoulders drop – if only a little – feeling all the burdens that had settled there over the years. "Very well, let us begin." his words held an invisible weight, his face finally revealing how wary he was of this life. "As you have surely noticed, the Death Eaters activity has been startlingly low, yes?"

* * *

><p>Lupin could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Now, in his lifetime he'd heard quite a few high tales and exaggerations – being friends with the other Marauders and the Weasely twins, after all. Now when Severus Snape, stone faced and aloof Death Eater came up with one of these tales – Lupin was pretty sure someone had knocked him over the head very, very hard.<p>

"So what you're saying is that there's nothing left between Voldemort and him achieving immortality?" Somehow, the statement sounded more ridiculous than horrifying.

Had Snape gone insane?

"I would appreciate it if you didn't question my sanity, Lupin." A voice cut through his thoughts, and Remus remembered too late that Snape was an expert at Legimncy. He mentally kicked himself and tried to rally his defenses, though he knew it would do little against a Master of the art like Snape – though he was determined to try and fight as best he could.

Snape sighed, and Lupin wondered if the entire ordeal was boring him – but he'd have to be a blind man to miss the fatigue seeping through Snape's facade. The man couldn't be serious, could he? No, this was probably some Death Eater plot to round the Order back up in one place then kill them all off – he no longer had any illusion that Snape was above that.

The man, though Lupin was sure he could hear at least some, if not all of his thoughts, chose to ignore them. Taking his wand out of his robes, and making Remus tense and reach for his own, Snape said "Fine. It seems we will have to do it the hard way." and a round, stone bowl appeared on the table between them.

Lupin stared at it, blinked, and was for a moment too shocked to notice that Snape had gotten up from his seat. "Is that a Pensieve ?"

His answer was a raised eyebrow before his head was shoved into the silver liquid and with a gurgling scream, he fell.

* * *

><p><em>Mist covered everything around him, obscuring his vision. In the distance, he could hear echoing footsteps, though he wasn't sure from which direction they actually came from.<em>

_A figure, garbed in swishing black, entered his field of vision, and suddenly his surrounding became clearer._

"_Have you made any progress?" the black mass asked another man, an elderly wizard with glasses._

_He had never seen the man, but the first one, the one who had spoken was most definitely Snape, dressed in his usual dark attire and with a trademark scowl adorning his features. "Well?" he drawled. The man in front of him fidgeted at the tone._

"_Yes, uh, um, well – ah, this is absolutely amazing!" the elderly wizard stammered, seeming highly intimidated by Snape. The man in question gave him an unimpressed look._

"_How so?"_

"_Ah, well, you see," the old wizard babbled. "the specimen is fascinating, simply fascinating. No matter what you do to it, it heals in an extraordinarily short amount of time – almost immediately! But so far we've determined it needs different intervals of time for different degrees of injury. But no matter what we do, it never stays dead for long." he paused, smiling. Lupin felt justly unsettled._

"_Actually, we were about to run a test – perhaps you'd like to see a demonstration?" and even though the man's expression seemed genuine, it was obvious to Lupin that he was still being suave. Trying to win the favor of one of the Dark Lord's most faithful follower, for sure._

_He wondered silently what Severus was doing here, but decided he'd find out in due time. He took a moment to glance at his surroundings. A giant room with a ceiling so high it could easily fit a dragon, twice as wide. Not many people were present, but the room was filled with documents and books and magical instruments – and Remus didn't have to look to know most were very dark magic._

"_Take him out." the wizened man said to his subordinates, and he and Snape moved to a small, raised platform in the cavernous room. Lupin followed. From above, there was a clear view on a giant metal square with a door on one side, but when Lupin looked closer he realized the walls were actually see-through. But since they were a good distance away from the cell he couldn't see what was inside._

_He soon got his answer when a few researchers approached the chamber in the middle of the room, only to drag what looked like a very _human _figure_. _He looked young and ragged as the men dragged him towards the platform they were standing on. It took a moment for Lupin's brain to catch up to his eyes, and soon the Auror-trained part of his mind began cataloging what he saw._

_Blood. There was a whole lot of blood. The cloths were ripped and filthy, but the skin underneath was unblemished. Not a single scratch as far as Lupin could tell._

_The figure trashed suddenly, causing one of the men dragging him to loose his balance and bump into a table, spilling coffee on some documents and knocking a few instruments on the floor (some of which broke upon contact)._

_The man swore, delivering a punch to the raven's jaw. The other did not stop him, but Lupin's heart stopped as his words floated up to them. "Just kill him, that'll teach him." The first one nodded, seemingly more than content to do so._

"_Avada kedavra!" A drawn wand and a flash of green later the boy slumped to the ground. Remus lowered his head, feeling grief for yet another young life lost. And for just one heart-stopping moment, he had thought the dark-haired youth was Harry – and even though he wasn't, sadness welled up in his nonetheless._

"Don't look away."_ A voice cut through his thought, curt and commanding _"Don't."_ Lupin obeyed without thinking, confused. What could he possible see but a corpse and the ones responsible for making it?_

"_Hey! Hey! Stop that!" another researcher screeched as he raced to the two men and the body of the youth "What do you think you're doing?! He needs to be conscious if this is to work!" Lupin blinked in surprise, dumbfounded. Conscious? The boy was dead! No one could survive the killing curse, didn't the man realize that?_

_Indeed, the man didn't seem to realize this. He crouched down, yanking the corpse's head up by his tousled hair and yelling. "Oi! Boy! Wake up!" the sound of a hand connecting to a cheek echoed in the room, the sound almost deafening._

_A few things happened at once._

_The researcher who had slapped the youth now sported a bleeding gash and teeth marks on his hand. The youth himself was being pinned to the ground by his two escorts and the Head of the Department was shouting orders at everyone from his post next to Snape._

_Amidst his shock, Lupin felt himself being dragged out of the memory._

* * *

><p>When he surfaced, the room was deathly quiet. Lupin was silent, his mind reeling while his eyes watched a spot on the wall blankly. What... what he had just seen couldn't be real, could it? No. It couldn't be... The boy had <strong>died!<strong>

"The killing curse doesn't work on him either." He heard Snape say, sounding distant but very close at the same time.

"...but, that's–" he murmured incoherently.

"Impossible?" Snape guessed, leering "Yes, and what we've just seen quite frankly suggests the contrary."

Remus raised his head to look at the Potions Master, the man seemed blurred, like an aquarelle. "What are you planning?" his thoughts were becoming muddled, his mouth moving almost on auto-pilot and a voice screaming in the back of his mind that he should _do something_ – but, what?

"Why should I trust you?" the words were out of his mouth sooner than he could realize what he'd just said. They were a constant in his mind, however, chiming in his ears as the picture of the dead boy biting people and very much alive haunted him.

"You're a spy."

Snape inclined his head, utterly impassive "That I am, but not for the Dark Lord." He answered in a off-handed, unreadable tone. Lupin's eyes bulged, not quite believing, not quite understanding either. When had the room started spinning?

Snape sighed, whether in annoyance or exasperation Remus wasn't sure. "You do not need to believe me, just look." Snape intoned calmly, gesturing once again at the stone Pensieve on the table.

He took out his wand, and Remus was too dazed to even tense, and extracted yet another silvery strand from his forehead.

"_You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?" _a voice sounded from the bowl. And Remus started when he realized it was Dumbledore's.

_"I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time." _Wait, what? What were Snape and Albus talking about? This was making less and less sense by the second.

"_I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus." _Yes, quite, you practically adopted the man that would kill you. Remus thought in irony and grief. The conversation in the memory carried on and Snape refused to meet his eyes.

"_If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time! Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"_

"_Something like that..." Albus's voice agreed. "I was delirious, no doubt… Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward." Albus__, what are you trying to say? Severus? Severus, why are you showing me this? Haven't you already humiliated Albus enough? _Remus questioned in his mind. Still, Lupin curiosity kept his tongue tied.

"_I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."_

_Remus's eyes bulged, his heart skipping a beat. He wanted to approach the Pensieve, to get a better look at the memory in it's swirling depths, but his feet had turned to lead._

_"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have. Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"_

There was a short pause. Lupin had forgotten how to breathe.

_"That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan." _came the spy's hesitant reply, quickly followed by the sigh of one of the greatest wizards in history. _"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"_

_"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."_

No, this couldn't be happening. This was...

_"And if it does fall into his grasp. I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts?"_

No response. But memory-Severus must have done something, because Dumbledore continued speaking – and he should really see what was going on in that memory because perhaps then things might make sense then but he felt too numb to do anything but listen.

_"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."_

_"Are you intending to let him kill you?"_

_"Certainly not. You must kill me."_

Lupin could feel his thundering heart halt abruptly. Everything seemed to stop. No sickness overtook his stomach and the room stopped spinning abruptly _– _there was only shock. He'd forgotten how to breathe. He couldn't be hearing right. No way. Surely not, this was just some sort of bad dream, but he was all too aware it wasn't.

_"Would you like me to do it now?" asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"_

"_Oh, not quite yet. I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight, we can be sure that it will happen within a year._" Dumbledore sounded as if he were smiling.

_"If you don't mind dying, why not let Draco do it?"_

_"That boy's soul is not yet so damaged. I would not have it ripped apart on my account."_

_"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?"_

_"You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation. I ask this one great favor of you, Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved – I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it."_

And why was it starting to make horrible, twisted _sense_?

For a while, there was only silence, and Remus couldn't dare look into the swirling, smoky surface of the Pensieve. Finally, a voice drifted through:

_"Thank you, Severus..."_

* * *

><p>Lupin's world was falling apart. It was clear from the look on the man's face. Severus watched, an impassive mask on his face. Severus's sympathy had long bled out long ago, after all.<p>

Besides, he was wary of Lupin's reaction. This was the moment that could very well determine the course of the War.

Snape watched as Lupin's mouth opened and closed, seeming comically alike to a fish – though Snape didn't find it funny. Couldn't that damn Gryffindor say something already?

"I... you... I never..." the man mumbled into his chin unintelligibly.

Severus resisted the urge to sigh, or shout, or shake the man by the shoulders. "I suggest you get over your shock quickly, we have much to prepare." He said in a controlled voice, and Lupin seemed to finally snap out of his daze.

"Uh, ah yes! Yes, we do..." Severus wondered if Lupin was even aware of what he was saying – but a quick, subtle prod to his mind revealed no deceit. He was genuine, or perhaps temporarily mad – but Severus honestly didn't care. He still had much to do, and gaining Lupin's trust wouldn't even be the hard part.

"Are you so easy to trust traitors, Lupin?" and was that humor in his voice? He truly must be exhausted if that was the case. He just hoped the blasted werewolf wouldn't notice.

Severus turned and walked to the still unconscious Nymphadora, removing the restraining spells but making no move to rouse her, whether by spell or potion. If the Potion's Master had turned to look back at the werewolf, he would have seen Lupin unreadable, pensive expression.

* * *

><p>Hours upon hours later, Nymphadora woke up in her parents' house believing she'd just fallen asleep on the couch. It was already dark out, and she was blissfully unaware of transgressions of the day.<p>

She was not however, so ignorant as to overlook the clear distress on her husband's face. "Remus, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly. She sat up, frowning at Remus. The warewolf sat in one of the armchairs across from her, head in his hands and looking more stressed than she'd seen him in months, almost as haggard as the aftermath of their wedding. She tried to stir clear of that particular train of thought as she made her way to him, a bit of at a loss at how to comfort him – he'd been fine a couple of hours ago, what could have prompted this reaction?

"Oh, nothing." Remus murmured quietly, in a tone that made Nymphadora wonder if he was at all aware of anything around him. Remus, meanwhile, was having trouble focusing on much of anything. Everywhere he looked, he saw number 12th and the reflection of Snape's face in the Pensieve. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore, let alone what to do.

Then, he remembered something – and even though it wasn't in his nature, he decided he could make an exception this once. "Say, where does Ted keep the liquor again?" he asked, his eyes darting about nervously.

Instead of answering the question, Nymphadora gave him a disbelieving, slightly alarmed look.

"Okay, what's wrong?" she said in her no-nonsense tone, her arms crossed over her chest. The sight of her being so serious might have made him laugh, but it only sobered him even more to the gravity of the situation.

"Nothing." he lied, massaging his temples in an attempt to stave off his headache. "I'm just... stressed, so much has happened."

He didn't look up at her, but her voice was just a bit softer when she answered. "Don't worry Remus, I'm sure everything will be fine." a comforting arm rested on his shoulder "Besides, soon you'll be a father – that should be enough to keep you from being moody all the time, right?"

She was trying to cheer him up, his sunshine, just like she always was. He truly was blessed to find someone like her, but now there were so many threats to worry about, so many problems and crisis and he resolved not to get her involved in Severus's plan. She deserved better than that, he knew, but he couldn't stand to lose her.

Seeing her attempts at comfort were mostly ignored, Tonks huffed and proclaimed she was going to bed – and if Remus didn't plan on spending the night on the couch he'd better hurry up too. But to Remus, sleeping on the couch didn't sound half as bad as Nymphadora had hoped.

He needed time to think, now that his initial shock had worn off. Had he made the right choice? Was it wise to trust Snape, just a day ago he would have hexed him on sight – but now...

Just how much of the man did Remus truly know? How much was fake, how much real? Severus was a riddle wrapped in a mystery, painted in various splotches of gray. He wondered if even Snape knew where the fake ended and the real began.

How much did he truly know about this man? This man who saved lives and condemned people to death. This man who drifted from Darkness to Light as easily as though carried by the breeze. Where did his loyalties truly lie?

What reason did he have to help them? Who was Severus Snape truly? Would he help them defeat the Dark Lord? Would Lupin ever meet the true Snape?

No, all of those questions weren't important right now; he concluded as he got out a blanket from the closet and laid it out on the couch. What was important was seeing just how real the threat was and then neutralizing it. Besides, if his family, his Light, was in danger he would do anything to keep them safe – even if that meant working with an ex-traitor. And a part of him was grateful, really, because at least now he could do something to protect those he cared about –

_"Thank you, Severus." _A grandfatherly voice echoed. Lupin froze, before hastily throwing the blanket over himself.

Still, those thoughts continued to fester in the back of his mind until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p>Lupin had once thought himself a reasonable man, and now was one of those times he thought he was completely insane – and while he would admit to not being the best strategist, he was fairly certain he'd recognize a bad idea when he saw one. Bad ideas had been a major part of his friendship with both Sirius and James, after all – so he was quite confident that his instincts for spotting "this is going to go horribly wrong and you know it" ideas were as honed as possible.<p>

He wasn't so sure now.

The Order reforming, the Immortal, Harry – it was getting to him. And he had to play leader, with Snape working in the shadows.

His wife's mood swung from angry to concerned and whenever he came back to her parents' home he'd always be met with the same speech, same pleas and questions and it was just so hard not to give in. But he couldn't. Nymphadora didn't know, didn't even remember – and maybe it was better that way, she'd surely try to stop him. Did he want her to talk him out of it? He wondered. Should he trust Snape? Should he fulfill this crazy plan? The doubts still swarmed in his brain, even weeks after they had agreed to work with one another.

What if it was a trap? No, even worse, what if it wasn't? What then? What if Voldemort really did have the key to ultimate power? Lupin shivered, wanting to deny it, to ignore and forget about it – but this was war, and if the enemy had gotten their hands on such a powerful weapon then desperate times called for desperate measures.

The search for Harry and the preparations for the impending rescue – that was the two things it ultimately came down to. Lupin could not hesitate, could not waver, could not fail... because that mean losing everything forever.

He just hoped he wasn't wrong in trusting Severus.

* * *

><p>BACK TO THE PRESENT<p>

Harry couldn't believe his eyes.

"REMUS!"

Yes, that was definitely Remus Lupin, his former professor, his friend, the closest thing to family he had left. He hadn't even realized his feet were moving until he barreled into the older man. He couldn't believe it! This was too good to be true!

"How–? What are you doing here?" he stuttered, overwhelmed and overjoyed. For how long had he wished for Remus to be there with him, reassure him, help him. He drew back from their hug and Lupin's smiling face came into view, looking down at him fondly – before it disappeared forcefully from view.

Harry blinked, but before he could even realize what was going on Ron's voice filled his ears. "HERMIONE! What are you doing?!" The ginger screeched. Harry swirled around, his mind already in the fight or flight mentality from the alarm in Ron's voice. Still, his confusion must have been apparent, for Hermione shot him a reproachful look.

"Careful Harry, he might be an impostor." She said levelly, her wand still pointed at the man on the ground, who was getting up slowly. Harry wanted to slap himself – what had he been thinking, running out like that? What if it wasn't Remus at all?

"Very good Hermione, such a bright young witch." But that was an extremely Remus thing to say. Or was that wishful thinking? No, caution Harry, it could be a trap.

Reaching into his pocket for his wand, Harry stared the man in the eyes reproachfully. "Prove to me you're Remus Lupin." He said at last. He noted with satisfaction that his two best friends had fanned out, forming a semi-circle around the might-be-impostor.

Harry looked hard, but knew that just looking at the man wasn't enough. How could he find out if this was the real Lupin or not? Wait. Calm down, Harry. Try and think. Ask him something_, _that's right. Something that only the real Remus would know.

There was a moment in which Harry contemplated what question to ask, all the while not daring to break eye-contact with the intruder, before settling on the first that came to mind. "What's the name of your child?"

There was a heartbeat in which nothing happened, and then the might-be-Lupin began to chuckle and then laugh. Harry frowned, not sure what to make of the reaction however the man's next words quelled any doubts he might have had. "We haven't named the baby yet." Harry stared, dumbfounded, and Lupin laughed again. "Nymphadora's pregnant, Harry. I'm going to be a father in three months."

It was almost too good to be true, but Harry detected no lie in Lupin's words. Could it really be Remus? Yes, only Lupin would know that – and he'd only told Harry he wanted to have a child as soon as possible.

"It is you." The Boy-Who-Lived whispered, voice soft. It took all of Harry's self-restraint not to launch himself at the older man again, but instead approach him hastily and hugged him again. It was such a good feeling to be held again. "I've missed you so much!" Harry cried. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friends lower their wands but they did not put them away. Harry suddenly remembered something.

"But, what are you doing here? How did you find us?" a bit of his previous doubt returned, warring with the hopefulness in his heart. Please, let this be true!

Lupin sighed, looking worn. "Much has happened, Harry," his voice was heavy with fatigue, and something else Harry could properly place – dread, maybe "too much."

The tone and expression made Harry instantly on edge again. "Remus, what's wrong?"

Remus sighed again, breathing in once as if preparing for a long and difficult talk. Harry's trepidation increased ten-fold. "Harry, listen to me." Lupin said slowly "I need to get you somewhere safe, understand? If Voldemort catches you than it truly is over."

He knew that. He'd accepted that he was destined to kill the Dark Lord, or else the world would fall under his rein. But why was Lupin telling him this now? Lupin already knew about the prophecy, Dumbledore had told a few most-trusted Order members, after all. And what about the horcruxes? He couldn't just leave them lying around!

"What do you mean, Remus?" he asked warily.

Old, haunted green eyes stared back at his youthful emerald, seeming to age centuries in that single second. "This war has gotten much more hopeless while you were gone." Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise at the tone.

"I–Remus, I don't understand."

Remus nodded, almost to himself. "I'll explain, I promise, just trust me and come with me." He reached out his hand to grab Harry's, but the Boy-Who-Lived pulled away.

"Dumbledore gave me a mission." Harry protested unwavering. He couldn't stop searching. Dumbledore had trusted him with something so important, something that could determine that out-come of the war – what could be more important than that?

Remus just shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore Ha–"

"Of course it matters!" Harry snapped, getting angry now. How could Remus even suggest something like that?! "Dumbledore gave me this mission because he trusted me, because he believed that I could beat Him!"

Lupin continued to shake his head, raising his hands in a placating manner "No, Harry. You can't." he spoke in a soft tone, but Harry was having none of it. Remus didn't understand, he couldn't – this was something he had to do alone.

"Harry, please..." Remus's voice was desperate, practically begging. It made Harry frown and fidget uncomfortably. "Please, understand..."

His anger simmered, and he met Lupin's gaze expectantly, if a bit worriedly. "Remus?" he prodded gingerly. What could be so wrong as to wreck the man so hard? What had made Remus look so lost and helpless? What was going on? It seemed bad though, real bad.

Lupin grabbed onto his attention like a lifeline. "Harry, please understand that very soon, the Dark Lord..." he hesitated. Harry's frown deepened. This was about Voldemort? Well, of course it was – but the look on Remus's face made it all the worse.

There was a heartbeat before everything shattered.

"Immortal, Harry." the word fell from his lips like a stone, the distress clear in his eyes. "He's three steps away from becoming invincible." A pause and silence.

For a moment, time stood still.

"Do you understand now?" Remus questioned. "I can't let you die, Harry. This quest is important to you, I get it, but right now, the Dark Lord is much more important."

No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Harry thought he might have heard Ron whimper and Hermione scream, but his head was suddenly feeling incredibly light and his body heavy with numbness – probably shock.

"Explain." he heard himself croak, sounding even to himself as if he were miles away.

Lupin's figure was drifting from sharp to blurry in a span of a few seconds, and his mouth moved with only snippets of sound passing through. "I will, alright, but please–"

"We can talk in the tent." Harry suggested, feeling as though he were in a dream. This couldn't be real, right? No, any moment now he'd wake up back inside the tent as if nothing had happened. Nothing had happened, had it?

"No we can't Harry." Why did Remus sound so girly all of a sudden. No, not Remus. Hermione. Hermione was the one who sounded girly. "People will be up soon, what if someone whom a nearby village stumbles onto us..." She trailed off. That made sense. He should probably listen to Hermione, she knew best. But what about Ron, what did he think?

Almost as if on cue, the red-head spoke up from somewhere to the right. Harry was too distracted to notice from where exactly. He was in shock, probably. "She's right, Harry." his best friend assured, sounding a bit faint.

Harry nodded, to himself or them, even he wasn't sure. He wanted to be held.

"Fine, lead the way, Remus." he said, and felt the muscles in his face move with the words. Feeling was finally returning to him, making him aware of just how cold and desolate he suddenly felt. What was he going to do? His head hurt. He couldn't think.

A hand landed on his shoulder, steadying him, and he looked up to the familiar face of Remus – Remus would make it all better, he thought, even though he probably couldn't. Harry couldn't believe that anymore. He wouldn't, no matter how tempting it was to grab at that reassurance, he realized it was an empty one.

Lupin, oblivious to Harry's train of thought, just smiled, tired and a bit strained, but it seemed as though a great burden had just fell off his shoulders – while Harry could feel an even heavier one settling on his.

* * *

><p>AN: Another chapter done, and we finally got to see a bit of the Golden Trio! Again, I'm sorry for not updating in for so long but things have truly been chaotic for a good while - but I'll try to update in the next two weeks.<p>

Note: Dumbledore's and Snape's dialogue was a direct quotation of the book, the lines are not mine. I thought it would be interesting to see someone else experience Snape's memories. I hope the results were satisfying.

Review and please, help those you can in life!


	5. Per Aspera ad Astra

AN: The new chapter, as promised! I'm actually not very proud of how it turned out, but after rewriting a few scenes - I think it's passable now. Wow, I'm really hard on my self... Anyway, don't know when the next update will be (real life does so love to torture us all) and I'm planning on editing the last few chapters somewhere in the near future. And yes, I know my grammar isn't all that, but I really am trying my best. English is not my first language, so you'll have to excuse any mistakes or word confusion. If you want to be my Beta reader (pretty please?) than please PM me. But if you don't, it would be a great help if you told me what words I'm misspelling and the like.

P.S. The chapter title translates to something along the lines of "Through hardships to the stars" or "A rough road leads to the stars".

Okay, I've blabbered long enough. Enjoy and don't forget to drop me a review!

* * *

><p>Per Aspera ad Astra<p>

In life, it is impossible to avoid every inconvenience and this was especially true for one Harry James Potter. Though inconvenience couldn't even describe all the trouble Harry had jumped headfirst into over the years.

It wasn't like he went looking for trouble. Oh no, trouble had glued itself to him since the day he was born and hadn't let go of him since. And while Harry had pretty much gotten used to it, it really was annoying when it decided to drag other people down with him as well. Which it loved doing. Either that or his friends had stuck themselves to him with super-glue. The thought wasn't very reassuring for Harry however. No, it was as far from it as one could get. For him, it was terrifying.

Once he'd learned of his destiny, things had seemed to just go farther down the drain than Harry had wanted to believe possible. Why did this always have to happen to him? But even worse was when others tried to bear his burden with him and ended up hurt... or _dead._

Faces sprang to his mind in an instant but he couldn't really bring himself to push the images away. Sirius, Cedric, Moody... they were on the top of the ever growing list ever since the actual war broke out. He hated it. He hated being useless even more.

When they'd followed Lupin back to the Tonks' house, he'd been expecting an organized rebellion, old familiar faces bearing the title of Auror and a better chance of getting information on the Horcruxes. There was none of that.

All he got was to be babied once again.

Harry had thought of running away, but Hermione was quick to point out the flaws of his plan.

"We can't, Harry. Remus said he's already organizing people back together, he's trying to reform the Order, but people are too frightened to fight now. _But _if they know _you're_ here, that'll give them hope, and they'd be more likely to rejoin the Order again." She'd reasoned. "Also, this is beneficial for us too. We've had a few close calls these past few weeks, and this way we have more access to information, which makes it easier to find You-Know-What. Besides, Remus would probably organize a search party if we just up and disappeared. That would be a waste of time and resources, and there's even a chance of Death Eaters spotting them. Then we'd all be done for."

Despite the seriousness of Hermione's words, Ron had snorted "Not to mention he'd probably have a heart attack to top." And those arguments had drawn them to a stalemate.

His days at the Tonks residence were therefore spent in listening to the radio reports with Ron and Hermione every day and he'd help around the house and in the kitchen. He couldn't help but feel like a ten year old doing errands for the adults again. He wasn't doing anything worthwhile, yet he could. Everyone else just doubted that fact. They were too focused on protecting him, on keeping him out of the war he was so crucial to. Didn't they realize they were just complicating things?

No, they didn't.

Harry had thought many a time on just going on his own with Ron and Hermione again. At least then they'd be of some help, but they'd also be a burden. All this indecision was making his head hurt. Thus, for the time being, he was stuck with being in the dark again, unable to do anything but wait.

It was frustrating and boring and sometimes the Boy-Who-Lived was just so close to snapping and yelling to Hell with it all and just doing what needed to be done! The look on Remus's face always made him hesitate.

"Please, Harry, I'll explain everything when I'm done with this. Just wait a little while."

Harry had the distinct feeling that he would be doing a whole lot that then.

* * *

><p>Remus sat at the edge of the dinning table in a house unknown to him. It was one of the many locations Severus had picked for their meeting place. It had also been home to some unfortunate family the Death Eaters had murdered, perhaps in this very room. Remus suppressed a shiver. It did not do well to dwell on those things.<p>

The werewolf looked over the tabletop, which was littered with all kinds of blueprints, documents and notes, and surveyed his partner-in-crime. A pang of longing hit him at the words. It was so strange to refer to anyone other than Sirius or James as such, but there really was no other title he could give Snape. They were plotting how to commit multiple crimes and how'd they get away without getting caught, after all.

Severus was looking over some old books and blueprints of the Ministry, seemingly enticed in his work, though Remus knew better. The man was hyper aware of everything around him. _H__e had to be,_ Remus added grimly in his mind.

He did not envy Severus the slightest. He'd been angry at the man, so very, very angry, and so very divested at how easily they'd all given up after the Dark Lord's second raise to power. Yet, here Snape was, still fighting even when there seemed to be little hope for the future.

It really made him think. Of his goals, of the people that were precious to him, of how far he'd go to protect them. How far would he go to fight the Dark Lord? How much could he actually do?

Lupin sighed heavily, trying to dispel those thoughts from his mind. How could Severus stand all this pressure? It was maddening! The spy warranted both respect and pity, in Remus's opinion.

The man in question had looked up at Remus's sigh, raising an eyebrow. He looked a bit like Minerva when he did that – he wondered if it was a habit Severus had picked up from the aged witch.

"Would you mind doing some actual work, Lupin?" came the snide voice from the other side of the table. Remus met the other man's heavy look with a tired stare. Neither spoke and then they were back to going over the files.

The Ministry wasn't going to break into itself.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean <em>you aren't coming<em>?!" Lupin shouted the words across the table, uncaring of the fact that it echoed in the empty house they were occupying. His angry, incredulous stare did nothing to faze the quasi-Death Eater in front of him.

"Exactly that Lupin." Snape answered calmly, which only caused Remus's irritation to spike.

"How do you expect me to break into the Ministry _alone?_!" he shot back incredulously.

Amid his ire, Remus fully expected Snape to roll his eyes any moment now. "Don't be so melodramatic, Lupin." He drawled.

Lupin's jaw almost fell open "How am I being melodramatic?!" Remus almost bellowed "You're sending me on a suicide mission!"

Snape looked as unimpressed as ever "Would you rather have that your family ends up dead?" he asked nonchalantly, as if they were talking about the weather and not a human life. It got Lupin to shut up immediately.

Silence. Remus's lips were set in a firm line, but no sound escaped them. Snape nodded in approval.

"Good answer, Lupin." There was no real praise in Snape's voice as he spoke. "Now, to recapitulate. I cannot be seen entering or anywhere near the Ministry for that matter. I will be at Hogwards, and Alecto Carrow and Amycus Carrow will be my witnesses. Then, no suspicion would befall me because other Death Eaters could confirm my whereabouts." Snape recounted his plan again, like a teacher with little to no patience with a delinquent student. Being a teacher had left its mark even on Snape, even though it had only made him more unbearable at times.

"Your mission is to sneak into the Ministry using the Polyjuice potion I have prepared for you." He continued "You will go as Travers, a Death Eater who is of high rank in the Ministry, which will grant you an excuse for being in the restricted area if trouble arises. He is usually the escort of any guest that comes there, so you must memorize all of these blueprints I've laid out for you." He made a wide hand motion, gesturing to all the documents and papers still on the table – all in neat order – and completely ignoring those that were lying in a heap on the floor. He'd clean them up later, Remus was sure. Snape never liked leaving any traces of his presence anywhere he went. He was like a ghost in that aspect.

"Wouldn't it look suspicious?" Lupin asked warily. He didn't fancy the idea of being caught in Voldemort's new snake nest, no less. "I mean, the Ministry was broken into not two months ago!" And by none other than Harry. Sometimes, Remus was truly torn between shouting his head off at the boy's recklessness and being proud of him.

"That is why they won't be expecting this." Severus answered "The oldest rule in the book is never to make the same move twice, which is exactly why they won't be expecting this. And besides, they think there's no reason for anyone else to break in. In their minds, Potter got what he wanted... and no one on the outside knows of their little new treasure."

Remus chose to ignore that last comment. It was a bit disconcerting when Severus referred to living people as objects sometimes and it made Lupin's skin prickle slightly. "How am I going to get him out?" They did not need to elaborate on who 'he' was. He had no name or identity, and honestly they had nothing better to refer to him as other than the Immortal.

"We will use the Ministry's power against it." Snape said, he seemed to have switched into his lecture mode, which Remus could understand, given that it happened to him as well every so often. "You see, Lupin. Voldemort uses the Ministry to monitor the activity of portkeys: to intercept them, to follow movements. But there is a fatal flaw in all this, you see, no one monitors the portkeys used within the Ministry to get into it, yes, but not the other way around "Snape added"because those portkeys are of a special brand, and are only available to workers who live at such a great distance that it would be extremely taxing on their magic to just apparate to work. Since the fireplaces were installed in the Ministry some seventy years ago, this way of getting to work became obsolete and most don't know about it today, since it's unnecessary."

Severus smirked "However, it is still entirely functional."

Then it clicked. "They think no one is stupid enough to attack the Ministry directly?" Remus asked. Why didn't that surprise him all that much? A government ruled by the most arrogant people in the Wizarding World, of course they'd think themselves invincible in their little palace.

Snape still had that triumphant, cruel smile on his face. "Precisely, though their opinions might have changed when they saw Potter in action."

Remus sighed. It seemed they were back at the start. "Harry's a good kid, he was very brave and –"

Severus cut him off before he could finish. "And very foolish and arrogant. He thinks he can accomplish everything on his own and in the process, ruins the hard work of other, more experienced people around him who could have done it better."

Lupin just gave him a long, weary stare "He succeeded, though." He said with no real malice, but it summoned a sneer to Severus's features nonetheless.

"Yes," the Potions Master agreed at length "and put the Dark Lord on high alert, almost got himself captured and killed, put innocent Ministry workers at risk during his escape – how many did the Death Eaters kill chasing him? Six? Eight? – and made our plan all the harder to execute."

Lupin had nothing to counter with, but the fact still remained. "He's good kid." Lupin repeated.

Severus shook his head, a bit of disgust breaking his cool façade "Yes, and he's still but an inexperienced child playing hero."

_Then what are we doing? _wondered Lupin.

* * *

><p>The cavernous hallways of the Ministry of Magic were more fit for a dungeon than to house the government in Remus's opinion. The upper floors were well enough but anything lower than the third was chilly, shadowed and the atmosphere enough to make anyone jumpy. Remus was liking this plan less and less by the second.<p>

It was too late to back out of it now.

"Ah, Travers, good to see you." A voice call from ahead. He looked up to see a stocky man in dark robes. The face looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place it.

"Likewise." He answered without thinking. The other man gave him an odd look, and Remus cringed internally. Had he already messed this up?

"Are you feeling alright?" the man queried.

Remus frowned minutely, before determining his plan of action "What's it to you?" he demanded as harshly as he could – which wasn't much, really, but it'd have to be enough. The man flinched minutely, but covered it up with a nervous laugh.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Can't I be concerned for a colleague?" the man was obviously nervous, which was good, thought Remus. He was impersonating a vile, aggressive bloke – and there was no telling what he'd do.

Walking away, Remus silently recounted all that needed to be done, all the while keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings.

An elderly witch, she looked stern but something in her expression told Remus otherwise, was waiting for him in the kitchenette in "his" office. She was brewing some coffee and seemed a bit flustered. "Good morning." The woman said nervously. She seemed nice. It was a shame he'd probably have to use her.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Lupin answered gruffly "Yeah, what's so good about it?" It made Remus feel terrible and extremely guilty, but there was a flutter of satisfaction as the woman fell for the same deceit as the man before her. She mumbled a hasty reply, too soft for Remus's distracted ears to hear.

He didn't spare her a glance as he, looking around her bare office, asked "Is the coffee ready yet?" there was a tray full of mugs on his work table, but he imagined they were not meant for him.

"Why yes. I was just about to–" the woman stuttered.

"I want mine now." Remus cut her off. When she made no move to leave, he repeated "I said _now_." he added a bit more forcefully. The woman eeped and jumped, hurrying to the kitchenette while stuttering in an almost incomprehensible voice "Yes, yes, of course!"

When her back was turned and the tray of coffee cups meant for the Dark Lords new lackeys was left unattended, he took out the vial Severus had given him and poured the Drought of the Living Dead in. By the time the old lady was back, there was nothing left to incriminate him or any of the drinks he'd just poisoned.

After the lady returned with the second tray of coffee along with another Ministry worker, this one a middle-aged man, they headed to the room, more of a lounge really, where the new team was waiting. When Remus opened the door, he found himself face to face with something he hadn't expected.

Wizards, and a few witches, all clustered in the medium-sized waiting room. The atmosphere was heavy and cold, and the people executing it didn't seem too friendly to begin with. Most weren't talking with one another, some were – some were just glaring at everyone else, as if it was degrading for them to even share the same space as them.

Arrogance was thick in the air.

Remus clapped his hands above his head, bringing attention to himself and arresting their piercing stares.

"Alright, listen up! I'm here to bring you down to the Department you'll be working in. Since you'll be working in secret, none of you can go anywhere without my supervision. When you come to work or leave it, you are required to have someone escort you. Do I make myself clear?" he announced in Traver's rough voice.

No one answered, but a few eyes narrowed at his declaration while some remained completely unfazed. It was rather unsettling, in Lupin's mind, but he held fast to his facade. "Right, now that that's cleared up drink your due and let's get going. You'll get further instructions and rules when we get there.

As he turned towards the door, he added for good measure. "You'll probably have even less luck than the last team that was here. So drink up, you have a long day of failure to prepare for." Every one of their faces was scowling at him, but Lupin had to hide a smile when they all obligingly drank their coffee – some fast, some slow, but it was all gone soon. Remus leaned against the doorframe and watched, at the same time anxious and giddy with the progress. So far, so good.

"Alright! Time to go!" he said when he was certain everyone had taken at least a sip of their drink. It would not do for him to make mistakes. They filed after him out of the room, leaving the two poor Ministry workers(the elderly witch and her companion) to breathe a sigh of relief.

He lead them through the longer, rarely used route down – not that they'd know – where he'd already placed a silencing charm so if any of them realized what was happening and tried to shout a warning, no one would hear.

Within ten minutes they were all sprawled unconscious in the hallways, covered with a disillusionment charm with one of their own wands and Lupin was on his wary way.

* * *

><p>Time flies by without anyone really noticing. People are too preoccupied doing this tidbit or that, or perhaps they think their doing something important. It doesn't really matter. In their minds, they have all the time in the world.<p>

One of them however, really did.

He spent it being bored.

_Bored, bored, _bored. Bored out of his mind.

_What the hell are those wizards planning anyway? They haven't been in here in two days! _He thinks, irritated, while leaning on the wall. His mind tried to figure out their reasoning. _Perhaps this is another test, to see how long I can live without food or water... no, that sounds too simple... but then again these wizards had proven themselves nothing if not incompetent..._

He made a noise that could have been either a sigh, a huff, or a growl. Suzaku would have laughed at it, but Suzaku wasn't here, so only silence greeted his seething. He wanted to get out – _needed _to. But he was stuck. He was missing too much information to make a proper move – and one wrong step and he could very well throw the entire game.

These were the facts that he had to live with.

Location:_ Unknown. Most likely a Wizard Facility. Known Wizard Facilities: None._

Estimated time since capture:_ 21 days. Jared Humphrey, his fake identity, had either been pronounced dead or became a missing person by now. It was likely that Damian Hathaway, Suzaku's fake identity, had suffered the same fate.  
><em>

Enemies' goal:_ Become immortal._

Their means:_ Magic of a sort unknown to him. They've never heard of Geass or anything like it – which was mostly due to himself destroying all the evidence of it ever existing._

Enemies' motivation:_ Unknown, but issues with one's own mortality are likely part of the cause._

He was starting to regret throwing that letter in the trash all those years ago.

"_Sire, your mail is here."_

_The Demon Emperor had been dining in his personal quarters that day, with his trusted Knight of Zero standing a few feet behind his right shoulder. He'd looked up, intrigued. Raising a hand, he motioned for the messenger to hand him the letter. It must have been urgent, if someone dared to indenture on his meal._

_He looked over the cover once, but made no move to open it. His face betrayed nothing._

"_The Ministry of Magic?" he asked in a harsh whisper. The messenger shuddered slightly, but his Majesty's next words made his freeze to the core. "Do all practical jokers have a death wish?" Lelouch vi Britannia asked conversationally, but there was a small frown of annoyance adoring his features._

"_N-No, y-yo-our M-Maje-sty..."_

"_Good. Now leave before I decide to throw you __into the fire as well." The man all but ran out of the room. He felt Suzaku's questioning gaze on him as he made his way towards the hearth._

"_Aren't you going to read it?"_

"_One more week, Suzaku." he reminded, though his friend didn't need it to remember the blood that would soon stain his hands "It doesn't matter anymore."_

_It's probably not a joke,_ Lelouch had thought, _who'd dare play jokes on the Demon Emperor? I'll have this letter sent to be decoded and then sent back to Zero after the Requiem. I don't have time to ponder this now, everything has to be perfect now. _After a short moment though, he'd simply thrown it into the flames of the hearth.

He was starting to regret that train of thought. He'd been stressed, yes – but that did not make it anymore foolish than it really was! Honestly, he knew there was something fishy(after all, how would have the gal to pull a prank on him?) about that letter yet he'd pushed it to the back of his mind and eventually forgot about it.

_This is more important then some wanna-be-magician/court jester who wants me to hire him... yeah, right Lelouch, _great _thinking._

During his long life, Lelouch had often been annoyed – at the world's stupidity mostly. Now he was annoyed at his own. Honestly, stranger things had happened to him! But it seemed that an entire government – entire _nation_ – existing without his notice – in his own kingdom, no less! – had been unacceptable for him when he was Emperor.

So now he waited. And waited... and waited... and his opponents didn't move a single piece on the proverbial chessboard. If the stakes weren't so high – not the fate of the World, of course! (Heaven forbid he ever got back into that hassle, and he'd only done it for Nunnally and his own revenge) But for Suzaku.

Suzaku couldn't die, not just yet. Lelouch... Lelouch wasn't ready to let go. Some part of him had come to rely on Suzaku during their long years of companionship and he had become the only thing Lelouch had left. To Hell with anyone who tried to hurt him!

A growl filled the dark space around him. Great! Instead of thinking of a way to escape – he was pitying himself! Suzaku would be on his case for an entire decade if he found out!

Then he was back to thinking about Suzaku. Damn it! Why couldn't he focus? He wished the wizards would do something already!

A dainty must have heard him, for in the next moment a light filled the darkness of his cell, temporarily blinding him.

The door had opened quickly and without a sound – which was strange, the thing always creaked, it was too heavy not to – and then there was a jet of light aimed his way, which was barely discernible from the sudden brightness. Lelouch froze, literally.

He was frozen stiff, unable to move even a finger, in the most awkward position. He'd slid down the wall so that he'd almost lain down on the ground, but his shoulders and head were still against the wall. It was just his luck, but he had no time to pity himself anymore.

His mind raced as a shadow approached him. His eyes still hadn't completely adjusted to the light, but even if he could see, he was virtually defenseless.

Someone sized his forearm and there was a pull somewhere within his intestines, like they were trying to spill out through his navel, before he felt himself being squeezed through some thing, pitch-black place. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his neck still in that odd angle as before, staring at the legs of a table and the moldy carpet beneath and listening to someone who had the volume of voice of a high inquisitor. The only thought his disoriented, slightly dumbfounded mind could supply him with was:

_These wizards are very strange creatures, indeed._

* * *

><p>It had become a routine for Harry and Hermione to help out with supper over the course of their stay at the Tonks residence – Ron did so as well from time to time, when he wasn't being a lazy bum or when Hermione wasn't too busy to force him to do so.<p>

They had already spent an entire week with Lupin, Tonks and her parents – well, the later was true anyway. They rarely ever saw Remus except for meals and he seemed to have developed a habit of missing a lot of them. He left almost every day to some place he never told them about, and returned rather late.

Harry had developed a fear that one day, Remus might not come home at all.

"What is he doing?" he asked Tonks once, while they were washing the dishes together. She'd just shaken her head, her features stuck somewhere between worried and exasperated, and perhaps a bit resigned. Her belly was round beneath her dress.

"I don't know dear," she'd answered "I just don't know." All traces of her usual, cheerful and ever optimistic self seemed to have vanished when she said that.

Sometimes, it was scary how quickly Tonks could change faces. But, Harry reassured himself in an effort to try to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach – Tonks always stayed the same. It didn't what face she wore or what color she painter her hair or her skin, Tonks was Tonks – and that would never change.

Sure enough, Tonks was back to her carefree self in a matter of seconds – even though slight worry wrinkles were beginning to form on her ever young face. "So, Harry, anything good on the radio?" and conversation had drifted into lighter topics after that.

Harry just hoped Remus would realize what his little escapades were doing to his wife and return home to them. _Funny, _thought Harry, _I haven't been here long at all, when have I started thinking of this place as_ home?_ Hogwards is home. 12 Grimmauld Place used to be. Private Drive never was._

_This is a nice place..._ Harry found himself thinking,_ full of nice people... but it isn't home – not really._

He looked around, spotted Ron napping on the couch while Hermione, seated in the armchair, was reading a book by the fireplace. He could hear the elder Mr. and Mrs. Tonks talking about something in the lounge. Next to him, Tonks, still with her hands full of dishes and soap, was whistling a tune.

_It'll do._

Harry just wished Remus was there as well.

* * *

><p>It was over even before the boy's body hit the floor.<p>

Remus was ashamed to admit it, but for the first time in years he'd _stumbled_ while using a portkey. Maybe it was the decade old brand or maybe he'd just been too overwhelmed with his actually success. _Success. _He'd truly done it!

He'd been so happy with that triumph and so dazed with the knowledge of the magnitude this little operation would have on the War – they could win! They could actually win now! For so long, Remus hadn't even dared to hope that and now it was happening! – that he'd let go of his prize and lost balance.

Snape, fortunately, was there to correct his mistake. _"Petrificus totalus!" _the spell rang out through the empty hall and Remus's dazed mind.

There was a resonating _thunk _as something heavy fell against the floorboards. The sound managed to snap Lupin of his daze and he quickly shook himself. What had he been thinking? He'd just given the Immortal room to escape! He could have just ruined everything they'd worked for!

More than ever, Remus was thankful that Severus could keep a cool-head in any given situation. He wished he could say the same for himself.

"Go wash up, Lupin." Snape said abruptly. Remus blinked, Severus snorted. "You look like you're going to pass out. I do not need to dead-weights on my shoulders." It was probably the adrenalin and overall stress that made Remus want to retort or snort. He held it back for the most part though, Severus _was_ right. He was still feeling a bit light-headed. The adrenalin was probably wearing off, making his feel tired and worn.

With one last glance to the still body on the floor – so still, so pale, like a corpse – and that particularly disturbing thought he was off.

The cold water splashed on his ragged face finally cleared away the cobwebs in his mind, even though some of his previous euphoria remained. He still couldn't believe he'd done it!

Composing himself, because Severus would no doubt sneer at him and call him a childish Gryffindor if he knew Lupin's current train of thought, he went back to the hall. It was empty, but the door to the living room was wide open and when he stepped in he was greeted by the sight of Severus looming over the unmoving Immortal and a few dozen potions on the coffee table.

The Immortal no longer seemed to be conscious. Good. It would make moving him to a secure – well, as secure as you could get with limited resources in times of war – hideout.

He made his way to stand on Snape's left and peered down at the young, ageless boy. There was nothing that truly made him stand out. Uncombed and dirty raven hair framed a fair face, a lanky body encompassed in ripped close that hung of his skeletal figure. His eyes were closed, so Lupin couldn't tell what color they were.

He stared at the unconscious boy and wondered about the future.

When Severus had applied all the spells and forced every potion necessary down the boy's throat, he stood up. "You are free to go, Lupin." he said, regal as ever. It took a moment for Remus to process the request. _"What?"_

Severus, surprisingly, was patient enough to explain "I had been at dinning with the Carrow siblings not a few minutes before now. Alecto hadn't been feeling well, I put some light poison in her meal – nothing to serious, just enough to make her sick(and she'd barf it out, so there would be no evidence whatsoever) – and they'd left quickly. They can confirm my whereabouts, since they believe I am still in my personal chambers."

Remus frowned, his mind searching the alibi for any flaws. "What if someone checks it out?"

"I took precautions." Was the reply, and one could almost call it nonchalant if the situation wasn't so serious. It was obvious Snape wasn't going to elaborate.

"Tomorrow, I will make further use of you." It was a clear dismissal. "Go back to your family, Remus, it's where you belong." the words were not all that commanding, but twinged with a bit of sadness and bitterness. _While you still have one,_ Snape's cynical mind added.

"I'll deal with everything for the night."


	6. When an Alliance Was Made

An: Just so you know, it will be probably over a month before I update this again.

I originally planned to update this last week, but things got in the way yada, yada, yada... You've probably heard this a MILLION times before from other fanfiction writers and it always really bugged me when people would just have these humongous ANs filled with just so many excuses and whining about the lack of time and even life stories! I mean honestly! It's interesting and all but a) this is the internet, so who knows who's reading this, b) most people just skip it and c) we were waiting on your writing, not your whining and _definitely not _your excuses.

Right, now that that's out of my system:

*cue drum roll and the disembodied voice that says*

_This is dedicated to the guest reviewer_ **FA**,_ who had submitted the longest review I have ever received since starting my FF account. (Is it weird I was giddy and pretty much grinning like a fool while I read the critics? Yeah, that's probably weird, but who cares? It made me happy!) And for putting up with my grammatical idiocy (and my idiocy in general). Thank you!_

* * *

><p>When an Alliance Was Made<p>

It was late one night that Harry caught Remus sneaking back into the house. He'd gotten up, tired and sleepy, to get a glass of water from the kitchen and just so happened to be there when the door opened to admit the missing warewolf into the household. Instantly awake, Harry felt a mixture of surprise and anger bubble up in him. Remus was rarely at the Tonks' home anymore and no one knew where he was otherwise. Harry wanted to know. He _needed _to.

He couldn't stand the thought of Remus hiding things from him again or, dare he say it, getting killed because of something he was doing for Harry's good. Harry couldn't stand the very thought of losing another precious person.

"Remus, where have you been?" he'd asked quietly, surprising even himself. He'd have thought he'd sound angrier, instead he sounded solemn and almost cold.

Remus had jumped from his place by the door, his shoulders tense as he swirled around to face the seventeen-year-old. He relaxed only when he saw who had spoken.

Harry had seen the black shadows under Remus's wary gaze all too clearly, as well as the tension and edginess that had been thick in the air around the man. Harry felt something in him stir in concern, but steadfastly ignored it. He needed to be firm. He needed answers.

"Remus, where have you been?" Harry had repeated himself.

Remus had stiffened ever so slightly at the question, his expression had been that of a deer-caught-in-headlights, before smiling that reassuring, empty smile he'd worn for what seemed an eternity now. "It's late, Harry. I'll tell you later." He'd answered with a yawn.

Harry frowned and the rage in him had simmered and swirled beneath his skin "When? I think this has gone on long enough, don't you?" he'd said sharply.

Remus hadn't flinch away from that icy tone. "Harry, I promise I'll tell you what's going on soon." When he'd seen that Harry was not at all convinced, he had added "The situation is... delicate, Harry. We all need to be careful, especially now."

And then he'd walked away.

* * *

><p>"There's something fishy going on." Harry proclaimed the next day, when he, Ron and Hermione were alone in the living room. "We need to follow him."<p>

It was not a suggestion; it was a declaration – the kind he hadn't made in a long time.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, but it was Ron who spoke first "How do you suppose we do that?"

In unison, the two boys looked at their female counterpart, who just sighed in irritation. "I don't have all the answers, you know?"

Harry shrugged "Yeah, but I'm betting you have an idea."

"Yeah, Hermione, do tell."

With another sigh from the bushy-haired witch, the three were back in their all-too-familiar process of scheming and plotting.

* * *

><p>It had been a long time since they'd done this, Harry realized belatedly. It had been a long time since they did anything but running and hiding, acting in the proverbial shadows. And it felt good and oddly liberating.<p>

They sat in a circle on the floor in Hermione's room, they're equipment strewn about them and within easy reach. The door was warded even if the Tonks had gone out for a bit. It was a precaution though; they didn't want to be caught.

They're measly equipment considered of a muggle cellphone indefinitely put on speaker (and Harry really didn't want to imagine how huge the bill was going to be for whatever muggle they had snatched it from after this) and an enchanted map of the United Kingdomm that would show the exact location of an object they had cast a locating spell on beforehand.

They'd cast it on the second phone in their possession, in order to minimize the chance of it being noticed.

So far, their plan was going well, Lupin had left in the morning as he usually did and it hadn't looked like he suspected anything. Well, it was Hermione's plan actually. Harry understood it more or less. Ron however, still didn't get it. "So wait, explain this to me again, Hermione?"

"How for- Ron!" the bushy-haired girl exclaimed. Huffing in frustration, she grabbed the little cellular device on the floor.

"See this Ron? This is a _cellphone_," she drawled, dangling the thing in front of the redhead's face "non-magical people use it as a means of communication, think of it as though it were a fire-place, though you can't use it to get to another fire place. You see, like fireplaces, it can connect two cellphones and hear everything that's happening on the other side. Like placing a call through the hearth.

Since Remus uses a portkey to get around," it was obvious the fact displeased her, even if it made their plan much easier. Portkeys could be intercepted fairly easily, it was an unnecessary risk to use them when Voldemort was lurking around every corner "and since it's in the shape of a jar, I took the liberty of stuffing one phone into it and making small, barely there holes in the glass of the jar, so that sound could come in and we could listen in on any conversations Remus might have during his little outing.

Now, I've established the connection between the two phones, and though my bill will probably be in hundreds now," though the phones _were_ stolen "we'll be able to spy on Lupin without him knowing.

Simple, right?"

The look on Ron's face clearly stated that he did not agree. But instead of explaining everything to him again, Hermione just shook her head. "You're hopeless."

* * *

><p>The next time Lelouch woke, it was to a face he was becoming increasingly familiar with sneering down at him. Honestly, it was getting annoying.<p>

He glared up at the man, and after a moment spent in a silent staring contest, the old bat backed off. He moved somewhere beyond Lelouch's field of vision and the immortal heard shuffling and the clanking of ceramics. He would have turned his head or sat up, but the fact was that he still couldn't move. Blasted magic! It was frustrating the hell out of him.

"You know, you're quite interesting." the man's voice sounded – Severus Snape, that's what he'd called himself – from the kitchen. "I had been wondering for quite some time what your true identity is. Care to tell me?"

Lelouch didn't even try to hold back the snort that graced his lips. "Why should I? My past life has nothing to do with the present anymore."

There was more clanking and when Snape spoke next, his voice revealed nothing. "Just how long have you been around?"Commendable, but hindering all the same. This man was hard to read, but Lelouch had been around long enough to know how to pick up on the subtle things that made a person tick. It would have been a tremendous help if he could actually see the man right now, but it was well-known that fate wasn't really on his side most of the time.

He could practically feel Snape's eyes on him. "Well?" Again, his voice revealed nothing. It was level and calm, holding a authority to itself. It sounded interested, but just barely.

Snape truly was an expert at hiding away his emotions, but he was no actor.

"Long enough." was Lelouch's vague answer. As far as he'd seen, the man was easily aggravated, so maybe he'd let something slip if Lelouch riled him up a enough.

"Are there others like you?" but again, the disembodied voice was monotone.

This was going to be a long night. "Can't say, I'm not really the social type." There were so many other things he could have been doing right then – so many things yet he didn't know _what_. He was still missing so much of the picture, could barely glimpse snippets of it.

He knew this Dark Lord – Voldemort, and honestly couldn't the man have though of a better name? It sounded like he was some manic vampire from some cheap horror film or one of those chessy romance novels – and had complete control over the Ministry of Magic (and he was still miffed about that). Any additional information – like the number of followers, base of operation, goal and background – he didn't have.

And his one source of information wasn't exactly forthcoming.

"But there is one other, is there not?" the voice pressed, and finally there was some fluctuation in it – it was demanding and unwavering. Lelouch had a hunch the man had already made his assumption, so he staying quiet and tested the waters. He'd be able to operate better once the man told him his own opinion.

"You seem to care about that boy, greatly, I might add." Lelouch tensed at the abrupt change in topic that perhaps wasn't so abrupt. It was only logical that this Snape person deduced Suzaku to be the same as he.

High-strung, he waited for the man to continue, and continue he did. His looming, bat-like figure stepped over Lelouch again and this time there was an unreadable, perhaps uneasy look about his face. The immortal watched him warily.

"So I propose a deal." That was fairly predictable, "You will help us defeat the Dark Lord and we will help you get your companion back." But somehow it made something tight in his chest go lax. _I'm coming to save you, Suzaku _– he didn't want to think about how many times he'd made that promise, or how it had all turned out in the end.

Lelouch almost smiled, whether mocking or bitter, even he wasn't sure. "Oh, and what's the catch?"

The face above him remained unreadable, it stated the obvious. "You have the ability and intelligence to defeat the Dark Lord, but you do not have the means."

"You wish me to help you stage a rebellion?" he wasn't sure what the news provoked in him, but there was an odd satisfaction there – one he hadn't felt in centuries.

"Someone like you could lead us to victory." Snape agreed.

"There is a period in history some odd three centuries ago that spoke of a time when muggles held the most advanced machinery the world had ever known, much more advanced than the remnants that remain here today. I believe they call it "technology". It was the time of the Great Divide."

There was the smallest of frowns on the ex-Emperor's face. "Your point?"

Snape's gaze was calculating and there was obviously a purpose behind his talk. "You see, up until that point magical and non-magical people lived in harmony." The widening of eyes was all the prompt the black-clad man needed to continue. "They lived all over the world, yet they mostly populated the country – a superpower at the time – called the Holy Britannian Empire. Those who lived there lived under the Rule of the Emperor of Britannia."

"However, when Charles vi Britannia, the 98th Emperor seized the throne, things changed." There was a pause, and Lelouch was pretty sure it was only for dramatic effects. Sheeh. Who did this guy think he was, stealing his spotlight? "Suddenly, wizards and wizards from all over were required to register and had and were required to spend five years of their lives serving the Army. To my knowledge, they were some sort of secret unites that were not largely known about. As all other soldiers, they served their ruler.

Whenever they did not, Hell would brake loose."

Snape was looking at him expectantly. Lelouch raised an eyebrow, even though he could hazard a guess at how his father had accomplished in unleashing that sort of chaos. "No one knew how the 98th Emperor had managed it, but somehow he managed to beat the entire Wizarding Community of that day to being his lapdogs." His cold, piercing gaze locked with Lelouch's, almost accusing in its intensity. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

And that question was so groundless it was almost too pathetic an attempt to deflect.

Lelouch smirked "Can't say I do."

There was a pause.

"So? Do you plan to finish up that little fairy-tale?"

Snape didn't look pleased, but there was nothing he could do about it. They both knew that. Snape could guess all he wanted, as long as he didn't have the proof he couldn't get, Lelouch could feed him any lie he wanted. Without further ado, the bat-like man cut straight to the ending: "The Wizarding Community took the chance to go into hiding during the Black Rebellion."

Well, that explained a few things.

"Which leads me to this conclusion." drawled Snape "Since you do not know about the Magical World, you are not old enough to have lived before the reign of Charles vi Britannia. My suspicions are that you were born right about that time in fact." Groundless suspicions, but suspicions nonetheless. It would do best to be careful.

"Your suspicions?" Lelouch asked.

"Yes. I also have the suspicion that I am speaking to someone who has seen eras gone and pass – and perhaps influenced them in their paths."

He did not know how close or how far he was from the truth. Lelouch did not deign him with a response, there was no need or purpose in doing that.

A few minutes passed, and yet again the clang of ceramics filled the air. Some time after that, the doorbell rang three times followed by a succession of knocks. Snape left the room, and Lelouch could hear his black cloak billowing behind him as he went. Lelouch breathed a small sigh of relief. It had been a long time since he'd done this, but victory was still as delicious as it had ever been.

Beyond the hall, he could barely hear the quiet greetings that were exchanged. "Lupin." and the other retaliated, in a voice Lelouch had grown to know almost as well as the first:

"Hello, Severus."

* * *

><p>"Harry, wait!"<p>

Hermione's cry fell on deaf ears. Harry was already up, his wand out and the wards on the door repelled. The fist on the doorknob was so tight it was white.

"The monster who murdered Dumbledore is right there! I have to take him while I can!" Harry bellowed.

"No, Harry, you can't!" Hermione yelled desperately. She looked to Ron for help, but he provided none. He stared at his friend, as if trying to come up with something to say.

Whatever it was, Harry did not want to hear it.

"Of course I can!" he exploded "I have to avenge Dumbledore!"

"But this isn't about avenging Dumbledore, is it?" Hermione shot back, the distress clear on her face "It's about getting your revenge, Harry!"

That made him freeze, made the inferno boiling in his chest pause for just a moment – before it came back tenfold.

"Fine, I'll do it myself." with those steely words he spun on his heel and ignored the twin cries of his name.

"_HARRY!"_

But it was already too late.

There was a small, insignificant _pop_ and then Harry Potter had vanished as though he had never even been there at all.

* * *

><p>Harry had known rage in his short life. He had known it very well the night Dumbledore had been killed, he had embraced it, strived within it and it had soothed him. Soothed away his grief and his hopelessness and promised to lead the way when he had been utterly lost.<p>

Yes, rage was something he had known well – but it had simmered over these past, long months. The wariness that had seeped into his bones over the course of his life on the run had drained away his anger. He had been doing what needed to be done with no real purpose. His victories had been hallow. His goals out of sight. His anger had all but left him, as well as his will to persevere.

But now, that rage was rekindled.

He did not stumble or fall over like a child when he'd finished apparating, the dark alley he'd found himself in had not deterred him in the slightest. With a snap of his wrist, his wand was out and at the ready.

"_Point me!"_

Snape would pay for what he'd done, and soon.

* * *

><p>"Come on, we need to stop him!"<p>

_Don't panic. Don't panic. Harry needs you now. Don't panic. You're gonna save him before the idiot with the stupid hero-complex get's himself killed. _Ron told himself, over and over again.

_Just _don't panic.

"We can't Ron! Harry took the map with him, and I've never been anywhere near those suburbs!"

_Now panic._

With a cry, the redhead's fist collided with the wall, but Ron didn't even blink at the pain. "Uh, damn it Harry! Why'd you have to go and do this to us?!"

* * *

><p>It was not at all that hard to find Remus. The "point me" spell had been so strong, fueled by his own raging emotions, that it had all but dragged him to the designated house.<p>

Harry's feet had pounded on the pavement as he ran, and the few people still on the street had turned to send him bemused looks, but he didn't care. Snape was so close. He was so close to avenging Dumbledore.

Harry had had enough common sense to come through the back door, the one away from the street, and whisper a quick _"Alohomora!"_ before barging in. He'd stalked through the hallway, and his attention was immediately drawn to a room he could hear voices from, even though they were faint.

He'd swung the door open with a _bang! _and there standing before him had been the object of his loathing.

Snape had looked shocked – and did it feel good to wipe that smug smirk off the git's face! – but had recovered within seconds and glowered at him, his hand reaching within his robes.

Remus had stared at Harry, his mind reeling. He'd looked at Snape, who had already drawn his wand. He wanted to shout, to ask Harry how and why he'd come here. Didn't the boy know what he was getting into? But Harry wasn't paying him any attention, he just continued to stare at Snape with the most determined, hateful look Remus's had ever seen on that young face.

Without thinking, Remus jumped between the two before the matter could escalate any further. Harry did not waver in his stance even as Remus threw himself before him, both to shield him and to prevent him from doing something stupid. What was Harry planning to do? Duel Severus? And then what? Did he honestly think he could win?

"Please, Harry, let us explain." Remus tried desperately. Harry had to see reason! This wasn't the way!

But the boy was done listening to him "No! There's nothing to explain! How could you do this Remus?!" Harry shouted, the hurt and betrayal clear in his tone. With a cry, he lashed out with his wand, giving in to his rage.

Then came the fireworks. Everyone was shooting at something. Harry shot everything he had at Snape, while the older blocked and retaliated effortlessly. Lupin was trying to calm the situation, to stun or perhaps paralyze one of participants.

The light-show could very well draw some unwelcome attention to them.

The stray spell hit the couch in it's back, blowing it off and unintentionally breaking another enchantment. Suddenly, Lelouch found he could move. Without so much as blinking he snapped to his feet, his eyes roaming the area around him.

Two people dueling. One standing by. The intruder was obvious.

Throwing a couch cushion behind the intruder, Lelouch watched as the man took a step back and fell. Snape ceased his barrage of spells – a stupid move, if Lelouch was concerned – and gazed hatefully at the raven on the floor.

Lelouch would much rather that he neutralized the threat.

There was a knife on the table – one Snape often used to brew those strange potions of his – it's blade was sharp and fairly long, as though it were a dagger. He gripped it in his hand and made a split-second decision. Lelouch hurried over behind the boy, crouched behind him and grabbed him. His forearm gripped him from across the chest, and the knife's blade gently kissed the skin of the man's – boy's, Lelouch now realized – neck.

"Now, who might you be?" he asked sweetly as he pressed the knife a bit more firmly on his target's neck. The raven squirmed for a bit, pitifully, before stilling as the cold metal licked at his warm skin.

Snape was the one who answered. "He's the boy I had been telling you about a few days ago." He did not sound too displeased by the current situation, but he didn't seem to approve of the teen's treatment either. Lelouch couldn't have cared less about that man thought.

"The Boy-Who-Lived?" he questioned – he'd heard the story from both Snape and Lupin a few nights ago and while he had mixed opinions on the whole "destiny" thing, he couldn't deny that he was intrigued by it all. However, he did not deem a thing as frivolous as "fate" as a reliable source of information or the thing that decided the outcomes of wars and battles. That privilege was his alone.

He looked the boy over, assessing, then almost as an afterthought he added "You people need to think of better titles."

The raven broke his slackened hold and backed away, glaring daggers at his would-be-attacker "Yeah, and who might you be?"

Lelouch however, paid his words little mind. He was already analyzing the boy, and so far he did not like what he saw. "Humph, brash, harebrained, strong-willed... I'm surprised a fool like you has made it so long." It was like looking at a much younger, much more naïve version of Suzaku – right down to the smoldering green eyes.

"What does that suppose to mean, you ass?" and minus the foul language and obvious anger issues.

"Ah, very crude." he crackled to himself. "I see well get along fine." Not likely, but it was better that he won the boy over quickly.

"Now, young Mister Potter, I suggest you sit down and hear our propositions." he walked over to the living room table as though he owned the place, and pulled out a chair for himself. When he was seated, he waited for the others to do the same. It was funny really, he'd been a prisoner in this same room just moment earlier and now he was the one pulling the strings (not quite yet, but soon). He'd just have to work with what he had.

The boy stayed where he was. From the corner of his eye, the ex-Demon Emperor caught the other men whispering among themselves. "He's on our side now?" Snape nodded minutely. Slowly, they crept forward to the two chairs to Lelouch's right.

The youngest was too focused on Lelouch himself to notice "Why should I?" he all but spat. It brought a frown of distaste to Lelouch's pretty face. Who did this kid think he was? King of the World? Sorry, that title was taken.

Deciding to leave any internal rants for later, Lelouche brought his attention back to the present. "It might prove beneficial for you... and the war you're fighting."

"I'm not doing anything while he's here." Again the response was bold, delivered without hesitation. Well, the boy was stubborn as a mule – even Suzaku was easier to deal with! There was a pang of guilt in his chest. Great Lelouch, now your drawing parallels between him and your allies, like it's going to help anything.

Although, Potter and Suzaku were somewhat alike... better to dwell on that another time.

Lelouch simply raised an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed "Would you rather I send him out?"

There was a silence, and the boy seemed to think it over. He did not take long to come to a decision: "No." and to Lelouch it was obvious the boy was itching to inflict bodily harm on the other, but just barely held back. That wouldn't do, especially in a situation of diplomacy.

Lelouch smiled pleasantly "Would you like to kill him?"

For a moment there was nothing but unnerved silence, then "No!" the boy looked appealed, sickened but he shook with fury rather than fear.

Lelouch tiled his head innocently "Why? He's a traitor, isn't he?" he understood things well enough from Snape's and Lupin's talks, even the ones the two did not know he was listening into.

Harry nodded vehemently, though he seemed a bit uneasy "Yes, he deserves what's coming to him but–"

Lelouch's eyes narrowed. "But you don't want to dirty your hands, do you?" his voice was hushed and serious.

"_When there is evil in this world that justice cannot defeat would you taint your hands with evil to defeat evil? Or would you remain steadfast and righteous even if it means surrendering to evil?_" * He'd asked Cornilia's knight, Guiford, the same thing once, and he was interested in how the three would react to this paradox.

The bat man, Snape, looked shocked, but Lelouch saw he understood somewhere in the debts of his embittered little soul. The other, Lupin, was looking at him as though he'd never seen him before. Such a thought had never crossed his mind then. An idealist, how quaint.

Last was the boy, who seemed lost at the words – frightened by them, even.

He stared the raven dead in the face "If I turned out to be someone working for your enemy, would you kill me? And think _carefully_ on your answer Mister Potter."

"I- I would." stuttered the boy – not a man and barely a teen. If you asked Lelouch, he was a rather pathetic hero. It was like someone had bred him just to die as some holy sacrifice. What a joke.

The knife twirled between his fingers, and then sudden dove into flesh and blood. Gasps filled the room.

"Then I'll give you a warning." He said as he pulled the knife from his forearm, he could feel the wound closing up as it wept the last drop it had to offer and felt rather than saw Potter's horrified stare on the bare, bloodied and unblemished skin where a knife had protruded from only moments ago.

"Do not go against foes that cannot be felled," he folded his arms on the table, movements leisure, confident and a trademark smirk spread across his face "it would serve you much better to make them your allies."

* * *

><p><em>Drip. Drip. Drip.<em>

Water trickled from the ceiling of the dungeons of the Malfoy Manner. It had been raining for quite some time – he knew because he could hear the steady beating of raindrops even underground – but for how long had the phenomenon gone on, he wasn't sure.

He'd lost track of time, of life itself even.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Blood oozed from his wounds, seeping from his mangled wrists and ankles and the few wounds he had sustained during the course of his imprisonment.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

His torturers were brutal and came to visit and "play" with him often. Mostly, they did not use weapons of any kind besides the strange sticks that they wielded. They'd say strange words – words he recognized as incantations – and his body would be lit aflame. His nerves would scream and his muscles would wither and spasm from the unbearable pain licking, biting and eating him alive.

Sometimes though, they got creative.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He hung limply in his restrains and even though the fight had gone out of his body it still remained in his eyes. Green and smoldering as they had always been, they were now clouded by the suffering he endured.

If physical pain was not enough, he could spend the many hours alone in his thoughts. They swirled and twisted like a tempest and drove knives into his being.

The stench in his little cell was nigh unbearable, as well hunger pangs. He didn't know when the last time he ate was. He tried to ignore these needs as best he could, they wouldn't be sated just because he wished so. It was better not to dwell on things he couldn't change.

Still, he yearned for a change, an escape, from this dark, harrowing monotony. He yearned for the warmth of the sun and being able to stand on his own two feet, with no chains or manacles or invisible strings tugging at his limbs.

He wished that, when they dragged him, helpless and beaten, before their leader – their so-called Lord – that he had the strength to fight back. He wished he could do more than curse and spit on the man's name.

But he could do nothing.

"Hello there," the man before him drawled, too high-pitched to be called smooth. He sat on his throne that was nothing but an ornamented chair and looked down at him as though Suzaku was a toy that had caught his arrogant eye. Suzaku sorely wished he could make his body move, but a will that was not his own was making kneel like an obedient dog.

He did not answer the man's greeting and wondered silently how anyone could willingly serve such a monster.

The man was smiling now, if the twisting of his barely there lips be called that. "Oh, what isss the matter? I had thought you might enjoy a bit of company." As he spoke, it was as though listening to a serpent hissing. Again, Suzaku did not deign him with a response.

His insolence cost him. He did not see the strike coming, even though he knew that he should have. Whether it had been the exhaustion and starvation or the many years since his military training, Suzaku found that he couldn't do anything but take the blow. Later, he would be ashamed. Later, but for now there was only pain.

"It isn't very polite not to answer when asked a question." Voldemort, for that was the man's name even though none dared spoke it, sneered. He ascended his throne with a kind of dangerous, deadly grace. His long black robes swirling as they trailed behind him.

He crouched next to Suzaku, looming over the boy. Suzaku's limbs twitched and shook from the spell that had hit him – a spell he had grown increasingly familiar with, a spell designed only to bring pain – but refused to make a sound.

The figure above him was dark and blurred, with a head of white that was as bright and round as the moon. He could have sworn it was trying to eat him with it's eyes, like a snake with fangs bared and ready to strike.

"Fine." the voice spoke, hissing as though a thousand snakes had uttered the same word "It would be all the more fun making you talk." Something sadistic reared it's ugly head in those words. This snake, Suzaku had realized some time ago, had poison in it's fangs.

He closed his eyes and braced himself.

"_Legilimens_!"

* * *

><p>* - one of my favorite quotes, so no, I couldn't resist putting it in.<p>

Well, that's it from me. The fight scene probably wasn't much, I admit. I don't have much experience in that department, so sorry if it sucked. By the way, have I told you how amazing you people are? I mean, this thing had over _80 _followers! _80?!_ You people rock! You give me confidence that I'm a half-decent writer and some of you even encourage and criticize me in your reviews! I can't tell you how awesome that is! I hope you all have a summer to remember!


	7. Anything

Anything

The wizards were driving him crazy or, at least, that's what they were trying to do.

Lelouch had thought them incompetent before, but that had been his usual disdain showing through. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized just how right he had been.

The wizards – with all their awesome powers, omnipotent magic and pretty little incantations – were useless. They did _nothing _without magic! The most mundane tasks were done with a whisk of a wand, but that only served to make those who were supposed to be doing chores lazy. Heavy lifting, finding things, preparing food, washing dishes... done without any actual work!

Lelouch saw that these wizards didn't even see how comfortable their life-style really was. However, that life-style had thrown a monkey-wrench in Lelouch's primary plan, because these wizards were _not _soldiers, despite the avid protests from the Aurors.

As far as the Demon Emperor was concerned, all these people did was wave their pretty little sticks and play pretend. And honestly, he was no sports-nut like Suzaku – wasn't even a tenth of that – but even _he_ was in better physical shape than most of these people. And they were supposed to represent an _army? _The mere notion was laughable.

The funniest part? A _teenager _was supposed to save them all! This only furthered his belief that wizards were complete and utter idiots.

These nincompoops were supposedly his Father's secret elite? What had Charles been _thinking_? Well, then again, he surely must have trained them. But how could _he_ do that? How could Lelouch, stranger to the Magical Community and a physically inept immortal (Suzaku's words, not his) be able to train paranoid, distrustful wizards who believed that they could accomplish everything in life with a stick and a few mumbled words in Latin? Hell, did they even teach them Latin in school? No, he didn't want to know.

There were still so many things he had yet to go over. Thankfully, Coders didn't necessarily need sleep, so he'd spent the last couple of nights reading every book on magic that was brought before him. So far _History of Magic_, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, _The Basic Spells for Beginners_, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _(he needed to fit in as best he could, even if it mean reading myths, legends and children's books) and the overview of the first three years of Magical Education had been thoroughly analyzed and put to memory.

Snape had also brought him a wand to try out, which he had found he could use without much trouble. Apparently, being a Coder also mean that he could use any kind of magic when he set his mind to it – hence his compatibility with any which wand. Since he was not a magical creature – or at least, he wasn't born as one – wands did not recognize him as a magical aura they could compliment and therefore allowed Lelouch to use them no matter the design.

Privately, Lelouch was rather pleased by this fact. It was, at the very least, the first step of progress. Which, by the looks of things, was going to be a long and treacherous path. Well, he was never one to turn down a challenge.

Still, he was going to have some work to do.

Ever since they had joined forces, the wizards had been working on amassing their little army. So far, it wasn't going so well. The only thing that seemed to motivate these people and make them take action – and it was really hard for Lelouch not to face-palm at this – was their teenage savior. Ugh, what was this? A fantasy novel? Sorry, reality didn't work that way unless you were the genial monster Lelouch had become at about Potter's age.

Harry Potter, despite all the praise and worship he received, was still merely a child, and a pampered one at that. He wished to do everything on his own and threw his life every which way without an ounce of concern, but Lelouch saw that his self-sacrifice was also self-serving. The boy didn't know what to do, how to can, to plan or defeat his enemies. He was helpless and yet people looked to him for hope. Yet people died for him.

But how could anyone follow someone like that?

Harry Potter, in their eyes, was not of flesh and bone but of false hope and their own fantasies.

Lelouch had been there on multiple occasion – when the people who they were recruiting were important enough to risk bringing Potter out in the open – and seen how the wizards all but bowed and kissed the earth on which their supposed "savior" walked on. It was like someone who had seen a three-course meal after months of starvation. Their eyes would widen, filled with disbelief and awe. They'd stagger forward reach towards the food, then stop before they could touch it, as if afraid it would disappear.

That was the reaction most wizards had to Harry Potter, those that still had hope, that is. They were at war, Lelouch had had to remind himself, war made people scared and lifeless. But if this was the only way to keep them going, then so be it.

He'd had to wonder though. Were these people insane? He hoped not, even though all evidence pointed to the contrary. Oh well, they'd have to do.

Right now, they were all he had.

* * *

><p><em>A fist was planted in his face with the force of a wrecking ball. He staggers back, knowing he had deserved the blow – and so much more – as smoldering green eyes stare down at him.<em>

"_You idiot! Why didn't you tell me you were still alive?!" Suzaku's had yelled, angry tears in his eyes, before his voice fades with the memory._

Voices rang in his ears, far away and faded with time, yet he hears them all the same. They're shrill and desperate, but sometimes they're hushed, pleading, calling to him.

"_You won't disappear on me again, right?" the question was asked in such a small voice, like that of a young child waiting for its' parents to reassure them, and Lelouch found that he couldn't ignore the pleading in its' tone._

_Still, he hesitated in giving the answer._

"_Why does it matter?" he'd asked._

"_Because I worry." his friend – a friend he hadn't seen in so long, for so many decades – had answered. The friend who was finally free from those chains and that god-awful mask he'd bestowed upon him, here in the ruins of the world. "I worry that you'll never come back and I'll be by myself again."_

_There was silence._

"_I'm not going anywhere, Suzaku."_

He was having that dream again, or flashback, or whatever you chose to call it, and he _hated _it. He hated getting lost in those halcyon days only to realize he could never have them again. He hated it for sapping away his strength and his will to move forward. He hated it for making him feel so _weak_.

But the memories were still there, haunting the recesses of his mind. Secretly, Lelouch was glad.

He didn't wish to forget them.

Lelouch didn't, however, want to wake up groggy and lethargic, grumbling for Sayako to give him five more minutes, when he should have been researching magical culture. The best part? He'd fallen asleep in the Library. The Library?! What was he, a school-boy on a private magic-course? The thought almost made him laugh.

Unfortunately, he was too grumpy to do anything but groan. It had been such a bright idea to lay down on a work table, so much so that he wanted to strangle himself. Where had his infamous insomnia gone?

Perhaps this new predicament he'd found himself in was finally catching up to him. He _had _spent the entire night thinking over what course of action he – and to a further extent, his new allies – would take.

It was obvious that the enemy they were facing was much stronger than them. Voldemort was also a smart man, it would seem, despite his rumored insanity. His Death Eaters worked well together, but they were a selfish bunch. If he managed to get the upper hand in a battle, they'd all scatter like the cowards they were. Now, the problem was _how _to get an upper hand? So far, no opportunities had presented themselves, therefore his best bet was to rally the troops and try to boost their morale.

Unfortunately, he couldn't make any of Zero's grand, motivational speeches and the only other "hero" was a bit too tongue-tied to do the job.

Lelouch held back a sigh. Harry Potter was nothing special, whether physically or mentally. The only thing setting him apart was the scar on his forehead and as far as Lelouch understood, his mother was to credit for his survival, not Harry himself. But, Lelouch reasoned, Harry Potter was more of a symbol – an abstract hope – than an actual person to the masses.

Deciding he'd sat for far too long, Lelouch got up and stretched, hearing his muscles popping, then headed out the door and into the hall.

It was a good thing, in a way, though he'd have to work on the boy's acting skills. He was, after all, going to play a vital part in Lelouch's plan. People wouldn't fight for a cause if they didn't believe they could win, and Harry Potter was crucial in that belief.

He stepped through the archway to the kitchen, finding the man he'd been looking for.

Now, Lelouch only had to check if Harry could be used for more than just publicity and the boosting of moral. But first:

"Mister Snape, may I have a moment of your time?"

* * *

><p>Harry watched the ceiling dispassionately. He'd been doing so for the past hour. Well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do now, did he? What could he do anyway, sans pretending to know what he was doing, pretending to be the hero and just doing and saying what he was told? Was he a doll now? Had he always been one?<p>

Harry didn't want to believe it. But, then again, there were a lot of things he didn't want to believe, things he'd been certain could never be true. He didn't want to believe Snape wasn't a traitor – he'd killed Dumbledore, hadn't he? – and he didn't want to believe that Lupin was hiding Snape away from the rest of the reforming Order. He didn't want to believe the sly, belittling words of the Immortal – and he shuddered at the memory of the demonstration he'd given them – that spoke to him of power and wisdom he did not posses and of ways he could not win.

Above all, he didn't want to believe he was so helpless as to be guarded by six extra Aurors that now controlled his living space. He also dreaded going out and seeing them everywhere he went: in the hall, the kitchen, the living room, even outside the bathroom! It was severely annoying!

Thus, he lay in a bed in some random house staring at the ceiling. Yes, this was not his room and this definitely wasn't his bed back at the Tonks residence. He'd been shipped from one place to another all week, never staying anywhere for long.

But this, they'd said, _this _was their final place of residence. Their new headquarters – Prince Manor.

Harry bristled at the memory of Snape's words.

"Use your brain for once Potter, I am secure in the knowledge that you at least have one though you barely use it. This is _Prince__ Manor_, confiscated from my family some years ago from my grandfather because of dept. When I was asked by the Dark Lord if I wished to reclaim it as my own, I answered I would rather make a new one, hence why this house is mostly ignored by the Inner Circle and why the newer additions to the Dark Lord's troupes don't know about it. However, that is not the main reason I picked it."

Harry had been caught between telling Snape to shut up or get on with it.

"You see, I'm a traitor to the Order – this is widely known – so none would expect the Order to move into my former house. None would look for it there."

The man had explained in his usual drawl, and later Lupin had repeated the same to the oblivious Order members who didn't have a clue about the serpent lurking in the shadows. Harry had wanted to tell them. He still did and so, so bad but he couldn't. Because if anyone were to find out, the Order would fall apart before it could even reform. He was in a deadlock.

"But, Harry, have you ever thought what he would loose if we were ever found here?" Lupin had reprimanded him, his tone equally hushed and stern at the same time. "Severus would be seen a traitor either way, and he'd be killed by whichever side got to him first."

It was just another thing he hated the man for.

Everything that was happening was Snape's fault, Harry had decided some time ago. The man just loved messing up his life even further than it already was.

What had he gotten himself into this time?

He'd been alone with his thoughts for so long that when the door creaked open and light spilled into his stuffy, little room he had to blink to readjust his eyes to this intruding brightness.

"My, my... have you been here the entire afternoon? If so, you are even more useless that I originally thought." a snide voice drifted across the room, like silk waiting to wrap itself around Harry's neck and squeeze the life out of him. It sent chills down the younger's spine.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"That's not important right now." the Immortal – Ares Ba'al or something equally strange – said airily. "The question is what do _you _want?"

Harry could only blink at him. Wait, was this man serious? Someone was finally asking _him _what he wanted? But, what did he want really? To be acknowledged sure, and his opinion to be heard, but now that the he was actually presented with the question he didn't know what to say.

Ba'al sighed dramatically.

"Do you want my help?" he clarified.

* * *

><p>Though Snape Manor was no castle and even if Lelouch was no longer a King, he walked it's halls as if he'd lived there his entire life. He might as well have, for the memories he extracted from Snape.<p>

_They walked down the corridors, to a private study situated on the ground floor, where Snape locked the door after they had entered. It wasn't very big, but neither was it small. It would serve its purpose well._

_Satisfied, Lelouch looked back to his companion. The man looked calm enough, with that indifferent expression tainted with just the slightest hint of apprehension. Smart man. He had every right to be uneasy._

"_What is it you wished to speak with me about?" Snape asked levelly._

"_I merely wished to discuss a few things with you, though I'm afraid they might be a bit... personal."_

_The apprehension was now visible on the spy's face. "Personal?"_

"_Yes, but don't worry. No one else needs to know about this." Lelouch answered, without missing a beat. His hand shot out, his fingers grazing the back of the Potions Master's hand before wrapping about his palm._

_Snape froze, suddenly going stiff and his eyes bulging, glassy and unseeing. Lelouch screwed his own eyes shut, fighting the almost unbearable onslaught of memories that burned in his conscious. Damn. If this was how it felt, Lelouch finally understood why C.C. had hated using this particular trick. It was much better when he could simply capture people within their own memories, without seeing them himself. However, in his current situation, that just wouldn't do._

_Attempting to clear his mind and cursing his low pain-tolerance, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing._

_A man, tall and imposing, smelling of alcohol and punishment. A girl with red hair, bright and smiling warmly at him. That same girl, older now, walking away from him. Darkness surrounding him. Faces and hands dragging him down into the abyss with false promises. The redheaded girl – now a woman – dead on the floor with baby toys and debris surrounding her on all sides. A baby crying, it had its mother's eyes. _

_Someone crying. Someone laughing. Someone selling their souls to the Devil of the Light, even though it already belonged to the Dark Lord. A heart being broken. A scar being carved into flesh. Green eyes. Green eyes he doesn't want to see. Green eyes watching him. Green eyes judging and hating him._

_Blue eyes judging him, deceiving him, using him all with a fatherly smile on his grandfatherly face. He is the one he truly follows. He is the one who laid down the plan he must follow. It is his punishment, his atonement, even though he suspects he'll never be able to forgive himself._

_He knows Albus won't care to save him either way._

_Lelouch pulled back, gasping and releasing the hand that he now held aloof. Snape had sunk to the ground sometime since the intrusion had began and Lelouch could hear the severe man's silent heaves. He stared at the spy as if seeing for the first time, before his violet eyes narrowed._

_He'd heard Snape was a master of Occlumency, the art of shielding one's mind from external intrusion. Still, that could not stop Lelouch. He was a Coder, after all, and no frilly little defense mechanism could dare stand in his way._

_Still, he hadn't been expecting this. He hadn't been expecting betrayed friendships and dead loved one's and how he'd caused all their deaths, whether directly or indirectly. He wasn't expecting that longing for death and atonement for his sins._

_Lelouch hadn't been expecting to meet himself in such a spiteful little git._

_He closed his eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths._

_This only left one other course of action._

He lead the boy down the maze of hallways and corridors and the child followed without thought or hesitation, like a lost puppy. Stupid, but it made it all the more easier for Lelouch. Who would have guessed this would flow so smoothly? After the rocky path he'd had to trek through for the past few months in the god-forsaken lab, he was a little surprised by the relatively calm waters he'd drifted into.

The calm before the storm, how cliché.

Still, this gave him time... and opportunity. The former Emperor smirked.

"Here we are." he said as he pushed open the double doors of the lounge. It was a fairly big room with bookcases lining all the walls except the one facing the unkept gardens outside, that could be seen through the three high windows. Their curtains were closed, of course, no one was supposed to know anyone had even entered this abandoned Mansion for years. There was a work-table and an old armchair by the fireplace.

There was also a marble chess board near the far wall, by the window. This was their destination.

Faze two: commence.

"Care for a game of chess?" Lelouch asked casually.

Harry blinked, then shook his head a little self-consciously. "Uh, no thanks. Ron's the expert."

Well, there went the "ask nicely" approach. Good, he'd never really liked that tactic anyway.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't." he responded easily, trying not to smirk at the faces the kid was making.

Harry was frowning, even more confused now. There was something in his gut telling him something bad was going to happen – if it already hadn't. "What? What are you talking about?" the Boy-Who-Lived questioned.

The answer came from an unexpected source.

"_Harry!"_

Harry scowled at the voice. Where was it coming from? There was no one in the room besides him and Ba'al, so who was calling him?

"Ron? Hermione?" he called.

"_Harry! Harry is that you?"_

"_We're down here, Harry!"_

Down here? But there was nothing on the floor, just the chessboard in front of him and the little black and white figurines on their respective spaces. Where could "down here" mean? Unless...

Harry's green eyes snapped up to meet unnatural, indifferent violet. "What have you done?"

Lelouch merely shrugged, unfazed by Harry's horrified expression. It was rather amusing, actually. "I've just challenged you to a friendly game of chess. Though _friendly_ doesn't seem all that appropriate, since the stakes are so high." He gestured to the pre-set chess pieces, as if they were some sort of audience in a talk-show, before walking over and gracefully lowering himself into one of the chairs.

He raised an eyebrow at his companion when Harry made no sign of doing the same. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable."

No movement. Nothing. The boy just glared at him in defiance.

Lelouch's eyes narrowed. "Don't try my patience, Mister Potter."

That, cupped with the dangerous undertone of Lelouch's voice, got him going. Fuming and wary, and still glaring, Harry plunked down in the opposite chair. Lelouch set him a wry smile. "Now," he began pleasantly "because I was feeling nice, I was going to give you a little rundown, but seeing you're feeling a little too rude to acccept, I'll withdraw that courtesy."

If looks could kill, Lelouch imagined he'd be dead three times over by now. Too bad he was the kind of corpse that sprung right back on it's feet.

Honestly, the boy was rather entertaining to watch. His struggles and his doubts were all so human traits, yet the boy was given an inhuman task. An inhuman prophecy. What had the world come to when they were rooting for a teenager to become a murderer? Oh well, it was none of his business.

Lelouch leaned back in his chair and observed the little "boy wonder", who was staring at the pieces so intently and so worriedly Lelouch half expected he'd grab them and make a run for it. Fool. They weren't real. All the little voices of his friends were actually in his head, nothing more than an illusion made by Lelouch, with a little help Snape had been so kind to offer.

The spy had also given him a detailed report of Voldemort, his origins, activates and motives or rather, Lelouch had taken the liberty to extract all of this information from Snape's memories. His allies and his enemies were now all visible to him, as was the knowledge of all the advanced spells and potions known to the quazi-Death Eater. He had good as Mastered both Legilimency and Occlumency as well. Snape was like a big encyclopedia on the Magical World, just waiting to be exploited.

He knew advanced magic, spellwork, people, places – _everything!_

Best of all, this new knowledge allowed Lelouch to go further with his plan than he would have been able to previously. Now, using Legilimency, he could see all of Harry's delusions and fears. He also knew the names of all of Potter's most trusted friends and allies, people he loved and trusted.

Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom were both knights in Potter's little army. Ginny Weasley as his queen. The castles flanking his end of the board were Hermione Granger and Severus Snape – a persona Lelouch himself had inserted there, just to see what Potter would do if he believed the man's life was in his hands. The two bishops would be played by Luna Lovegood and Remus Lupin.

Lastly the front row – the pawns – consisted of an Asian girl named Cho Chang, Fred and George Weasley, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Percy, Charlie and Bill Weasley. Potter seemed to have a soft spot for the entire family. How sweet.

It was such a clear view of someone's weakness.

But, then again, everyone had a weak spot, didn't they? Really, it wasn't such a bad thing. As if anything with... Nunally could ever be anything but good. And even now, there was someone to brighten up his days and to give him at least a shred of purpose.

Yeah, having a weak spot was actually quite nice if said weakness wasn't being exploited like it was now. Lelouch grit his teeth at the reminder.

His eyes roamed over his side of the board – he'd give the boy a minute or two more to figure out which figure on the board represented who.

Lelouch cocked his head to the side, thinking. Who would the pieces represent in his case?

C.C. was his queen, obviously. His castles probably would have been Li Xingke and Ohgi. Rolo had been his most precious pawn, but he couldn't classify him as anything else even if he wanted to. The other pawns weren't worth mentioning. Kallen would have been his bishop, zigzagging across the field and felling him enemies with lighting fast strikes. Jeremiah have fit that role as well, only his weapon would have been his boundless loyalty

His knight, it went with out saying, was Suzaku. He didn't need anyone else. But, if he had to chose, he'd guess Tohdoh, Suzaku's teacher, would have filled the role fairly well.

He, of course, was King.

Lelouch wondered how long it would take Harry to realize the same.

"Shall we begin?" he quarried. He'd given the boy enough time to speak with the enchanted chess figures and then more some. It was time for the game to begin.

He took a white pawn without waiting for an answer and moved it two spaces forward. Harry glared at his from across the playing field, making no move to move any of his pieces.

"Why are you doing this?" the boy demanded.

"I have no reason not to." Lelouch answered coolly. Harry's face scrunched up.

"You also don't have a reason to do this." he stated.

Lelouch smirked "Is that so? Your more naïve than I thought, Mister Potter. Far too naïve to win."

There was a pause as the former Demon Emperor waited expectantly for his opponent to make a move. Harry, still seething – and trying to hide just how much he was frightened and worried by the situation behind that anger – lifted one of his own black pawns, placing it uncertainly one space forward.

It was blindingly obvious the boy still hadn't thought of a single strategy yet. Lelouch could practically read his thoughts through his eyes: _"How can I save my friends?" _and _"What should I do now?" _were the most prominent.

It was annoying. How this boy had become such a vital piece on the proverbial board?

Lelouch would had his work cut out for him.

"Why do you fight, Harry?" he asked, careful to keep his voice even and unreadable. The boy's head snapped up as if he'd been slapped. Too easy. "You seem quite convinced in the fact you cannot win, so why even try?"

The Boy-Who-Lived looked as though he'd been physically hit, but soon his green eyes became angry – livid, even.

"Shut up, it's none of your business." he hissed.

Lelouch raised an unimpressed eyebrow, moving a piece on the board and letting the boy do the same. "Do you plan to win this war on your own? With a tongue like that, you'll scare off any and all who might want to help you." Silence. The pieces on the board kept moving and the blank ones reducing in numbers. An easy win for Lelouch. "But that's what you want, isn't it?"

The look on Potter's face was priceless and Lelouch would admit it was his guilty pleasure to watch all these chaotic emotions erupt inside the young boy. Was he becoming a sadist? Huh, the thought had never crossed his mind before.

"What?" Harry stuttered breathlessly.

Lelouch sent him a glare. "Don't play dumb with me, Harry, I've been able to see through you all along."

The vulnerable look on that all too young face was almost to fragile for him to break. Almost.

"Do you wish to die, Mister Potter?"

Harry looked away, he couldn't stand to look his adversary in the eye anymore. "If I die, so does everyone else." He murmured, sounding defeated.

Had he already given up on victory?

"I wonder just how far would you go to keep them safe." he said "Just how much would you give?"

"Anything." Harry whispered, steel in his eyes. "I'd give anything."

Lelouch snorted.

"So, the only reason you're living is to make sure others will survive." The ex-Demon Emperor clicked his tongue, his hand moving to capture the black bishop with one of his knights. "What a pitiful existence."

"And what are you living for?" Harry barked, the scowl back on his face.

"In a word: nothing." was the casual reply "I've accomplished all my goals long ago, and even went further than that. My life's work is done." It was true. He wouldn't let himself believe anything else.

"But you know, Mister Potter, when one is on top of the world, one never does forget the view." Lelouch mused, appearing lost in thought "And when one looses something that is important to them, one strives to get it back."

Harry blinked before the statement sunk in. The chessboard between them was all but forgotten.

"Vold... _He_ took something from you, didn't he?" Harry asked, seeming more focused than before and yet all the more confused. Lelouch decided he'd have to do one thing at a time.

"Indeed he did," he agreed, his expression becoming fierce "and I want it back."

Harry became even more uneasy by the blatant show of anger, but couldn't help but ask. "But, why would you tell me this?"

Lelouch exhaled, settling back into his calm persona. "Because you can help me get it back. Think of it as a trade. You will return to me what is mine and in return, I'll give you the power to fulfill your life's purpose."

He didn't elaborate on what purpose he spoke of, but there was no need. They both knew what he meant... and Harry would do anything for his friends, after all.

There was a pause that could have lasted heartbeats and lifetimes all at once.

"I agree."

* * *

><p>Voldemort was a patient man. He knew good plans took time to construct and execute. However, sometimes his patience wore thin with the failure of his subordinate. What he hated even more so that those instances were when someone had the gal to outwit him – <em>him<em>, the Dark Lord!

What was more, whoever had broken into his Ministry – and he could hazard a guess as to who it wan, Dumbledore's pitiful Order simply didn't know when to give up – had been the _**second**_ one to do so. They were making him look like a fool!

They had even taken his Immortal! Those insufferable, lowly half-breed bastards! Voldemort seethed in silent fury, resolving to punish all who opposed him accordingly. Even the Immortal wouldn't be spared. He should know his place!

And if they wanted to play dirty, he'd make sure to bury them alive. They wouldn't escape him and he'd crush them like the pitiful insects they were. Then, he'd take his Immortal back and the boy would finally give him his secrets.

No, he'd shown he was too stubborn to do that. Voldemort need to reinforce his approach, to show the Immortal just how much more worthy he was of the ancient man's gift. The disobedient child needed to be taught a lesson.

Voldemort smiled cruelly.

So be it, then.

* * *

><p>The throne room of the Dark Lord was filled with laughter.<p>

It resounded off the cavernous walls of the chamber as Voldemort's servants gathered in a loose circle around the object of their amusement. Even their Lord chuckled deep in his throat.

Before them, surrounded and alone, danced their seemingly young prisoner. He was ungraceful and often stumbled, leaving bloody footprints and small puddles of crimson where he fell. But when he did collapse his limbs would jerk, as though pulled by invisible strings, and his ungainly dance would continue.

The Death Eaters around him took turns shooting various spells at him – from those to make him puke or to cut deep into his skin to those that would turn it purple and orange – and laughing all the way. It was a game of sorts and like children they gathered and played and laughed, their leader hanging back and enjoying their good fun.

Their puppet stumbled yet again, falling to the black marble floor with a heavy _thud_.

His limbs did not feel as though they were his limbs, or even parts of his own body. They disobeyed his thoughts and instincts, choosing to follow another's will. Worst of all, he _enjoyed _it. It made him giddy to be used and abused like this, and hauntingly it reminded him of the Geass placed on his so long ago.

His muscles twitched, his limbs jerked at odd angles and he did his best not to let any sound escape his throat. A second later, his body righted itself and Suzaku unwillingly pushed himself to his feet. His legs were shaky and bleeding from various places, but he didn't care – _notheotherdidn'tcaredidn'tcarebecausehewaslaughingandSuzakuwaslaughingtoo _– because his Master commanded him to dance – _buthewasn'thisLordandheshouldfind_him_findwho whowas_ he? – and dance he would.

It was humiliating, and he hated–_lovedit_. It was never-ending–_hewantedittoendbuthedidn'tbecausethanhe'dhavetostopandhecouldn'tstop_. And it was useless to struggle anymore–_whowastheretofight?whowashefighting?why?whatwasgoingon?whywashefighting?he'dalreadysurrenderedtohisMasterand-_

And Kururugi Suzaku had already lost.

_Lelouch..._

_WhowasLelouch?Tellme._

_Lelouch, I–_

_Whoisthisperson?Whydoyoucare?Whatishetoyou?Tellme,tellme,Icommandyou!_

_I'm sorry._

* * *

><p><em>There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it.<em>

That's what Voldemort – Quirrell – had said once upon a time, in the chamber that held the Mirror of Erised and the Philosopher's Stone. At the time, young Harry hadn't given it much thought. He'd just been glad the nightmare was finally over.

If only it were over.

Voldemort had made his life – his second chance to have friends and family who cared and to be able to be happy – a living Hell. He'd found that the Wizarding World wasn't all rainbows and sunshine like he'd first thought in his childish, eleven-year-old awe. He'd lost the only living family member because of his own stupidity and now when he'd found friends he'd thought he'd never have he wished he didn't have them. What was the point, if they'd all die because of him?

But now Harry had the means to protect his friends. Now he knew what he needed to do.

The Boy-Who-Lived, it would seem, could make illusions, or at least that was what Ba'al had told him. The ancient youth never told him much – which was frustrating to the point that Harry wished he could hex him – and often left him to figure out things on his own.

After a couple of days, Harry knew the basics of his new power or "Geass" as Ba'al had called it. It was a strange thing. Harry could manipulate the people around him whenever he wanted to, just by activating the thing. Ba'al had shown him his reflection once, while his Geass was activated. Harry was unnerved to realize his left eye was glowing and marked by a red sign, one that curiously reminded him of a bird in flight.

The results of Harry's and Ba'al's experiments went as this:

a) Harry didn't need to make eye-contact to make his power work on that person. (Harry wasn't sure why this was important, but it seemed to surprise the Immortal for some reason.)

b) The Geass didn't seem to have a drawback for now, but Ba'al said it would be best to keep an eye on it just in case. (Ba'al hadn't said anything specific about what the drawback might be, but that only caused Harry to feel even more uneasy.

c) His Geass had only a temporary an effect on people, because of this, he could use it more than once on every individual. (At least, that was how Ba'al had explained it. Harry didn't completely understand the reasoning.)

d) Because his Geass was temporary and required no eye-contact, Ba'al had instantly classified it as a "area type" which meant it was limited by both time and space. (He'd also whispered a name to himself, looking lost in some far away land. It had sounded a lot like "Rolo".

e) The range of his Geass varied in accordance to his wishes. (The wider it got, the more taxing it would become to maintain.)

f) Lastly, the time limit of his Geass was exactly eleven minutes. (Harry didn't know why, but Ba'al had stared at the numbers on the timer – reading the simplest 11:00 – with the most sardonic, bittersweet smile, as if to say "Of course it would be like this.")

Harry however, had learned not to question Ba'al too much nor to pry into his past. It shouldn't have surprised him when he'd come to an Order meeting in the downstairs dining room one night, pretending to be one of the newest recruits with some tragic sob-story, and introduced himself as Waylon Bateson. He should have realized sooner that "Ba'al" probably wasn't his name either.

He mentioned this to both Ron and Hermione, one of which had looked lost and the other had said she'd already figured that out. Which lead to the question, who was Ba'al truly? Did he even have a name? How long had he been around anyway?

Harry didn't know and it was driving him crazy. Hadn't he been kept in the dark long enough? However, Ba'al was different from everyone else. What they hid was out of love and worry for Harry, while Ba'al did what suited him best. He was selfish and detached, gazing down at the people around him the same way he did at his chess pieces. It made the skin on the back of Harry's neck crawl.

It was, he supposed, why he didn't pry into the other man's business. Besides, he had the distinct feeling that whatever Ba'al was hiding he would be much better off not knowing.

* * *

><p>It was one of those days at the reformed Order, he and Ba'al had been sitting in the upstairs lounge playing chess (Ba'al insisted that Harry needed to think of better strategies and to do so quickly, Hermione did too, apparently. Those two devious devils.) when Severus Snape barged through the doors, looking more haggard that Harry had ever seen the man before.<p>

Ba'al stood up, his usual regal grace now stiff and wary, as he stared questioningly at the intruding man. Snape, still panting, didn't say anything as he handed over a white envelope to the Immortal. Harry was a bit too preoccupied by the sinking feeling in his gut to laugh at how ruffled Snape looked, his façade to reveal the tired mess beneath. Instead, Harry just continued to look at the Immortal, who seemed to have grown as pale and stiff as a statue.

Harry swallowed, though his mouth had already went dry.

"What is it?"

Ba'al straightened his back, as if he'd forgotten he and Snape were still in the room, and turned to them with narrow, unnaturally bright eyes.

"A declaration of War."

* * *

><p>AN: Ugh, this took so <em>long <em>to write! I kept getting side-tracked and life got in the way - I don't mind for the most part, but I definitely could have gone on without a couple of things. Anyway, I must say I'm rather pleased with this chapter. What about you guys? Do you like it?

Oh, and P.S. I put a poll on my profile to decide what multi-chapter fic I'm going to write after I finish this (descriptions of said fics are on my profile), so if your interested go check it out!


	8. Eleven to Zero

Eleven to Zero

_Hello, my dear Immortal,_

_You've been naughty, haven't you? Running away from me like that. You're mine. I had thought that I had made that perfectly clear during your stay with me. But what can I do, now? I can't punish you when you ran away from your responsibilities to me. Ah, I know. Your little friend might tell me. You seemed so fond of him, I'm sure he's eager to meet with you again. Are you? Don't tell me you don't miss him. He's quite the loyal companion, such a good dog._

_Do you want to see him? If so, come back home._

_Lord Voldemort_

_P.S. Feel free to bring your new friends along as well._

* * *

><p>Lelouch was not in a good mood. Actually, that was the understatement of the century. He was positively <em>murderous<em>. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to vent without putting either his identity or the alliance he'd made with the wizards – or both – on the line. Even more unfortunate was the fact that the feeling wouldn't simmer at all.

How had he allowed this to happen? He'd known Suzaku would certainly be used against him. He hadn't acted quickly enough and now Suzaku was paying for it. It was Nunnally and Schniezel all over again.

All because of the stupid wizards and their racist war! Hadn't Lelouch vowed to himself not to get involved with normal people ever again? Well, these people certainly weren't normal by any standards but their own. Still, their incompetence had cost him dearly... and made him all the more determined to win.

No more playing games. No more beating around the bush. He needed to be ruthless and relentless and damn the consequences. He knew what he wanted and nothing else mattered.

He'd lead the wizards to the moment of his victory, after that, they were on their own.

* * *

><p>The downstairs lounge was abuzz with chatter and shifting eyes. All were on edge with anticipation and dread. They'd been called in for an emergency meeting, through the purpose of said meeting was eluded upon. What had happened? What tragedy would befall them next? Had something happened to the Boy-Who-Lived?<p>

The swinging of heavy wooden doors silenced their restless clamor. Lupin, the new leader of the Order of the Phoenix, walked in with Harry Potter and Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt trailing right behind him. A few more people entered with them, one of their brightest strategists, Waylon Bateson, and a man Lupin had introduced as his contact in the Wizard underground some time ago, but was really just Snape under the influence of a polyjuice potion.

"Thank you for coming here, though I fear we have some grave news." Lupin stated without much preamble. One could actually feel the temperature in the room drop as the people sitting around the long table stilled, as if petrified. Lupin watched them with a heavy gaze.

"It seems the Dark Lord had dispatched all of his available Death Eaters on a single mission," He began "which is to deliver a message."

The whole room seemed to tense as one. "A message?" asked Molly Weasley worriedly "What kind of message?"

Lupin sent her a withering look, saying "I'll get to that in a moment."

Then, turning his attention towards the general audience, he continued "You see, several Death Eaters were dispatched with either letters or the order to spread word that the Dark Lord had decided to humor the Boy-Who-Lived by challenging him to a duel to the death. It will take place in the Great Hall of the Ministry in three days."

The uproar that followed that statement was equal to that of a winning goal in the finals of the Quidditch World Cup... if the awful Chudley Cannons had won. For a few good minutes there was nothing but shouting, screaming, arguing and overall chaos until Lupin, uncharacteristically, lost his temper.

"_QUIET__!"_

All in the room fell silent abruptly, as if frozen, eyeing the beast they might have just unleashed warily. The only sounds in the lounge were that of ragged breathing and shifting bodies. This forced quiet lasted a whole three seconds before Mundungus Fletcher stood up, shaking like a leaf. "You honestly believe we can beat him, boy? He is the Dark Lord, the Herald of Doom! We'll all die horrible deaths if we go against him!" his voice cracked and shook and it did nothing for the morale of his comrades.

From his spot behind Lupin and Potter, clad in his wizarding disguise and yellow colored eye-contacts*, Lelouch's eyes narrowed. "Yes," he drawled, unable to hold the full force of his disdain back. "and if you don't you will hide and rot until you are killed anyway."

It was amazing how in sync the twenty people in front of him were. As one, their attention shifted to him as both Potter and Lupin stepped away from each other to allow him the spotlight. Oh, how nostalgic.

He hid a smirk as he took his place on the proverbial podium.

"I am the keeper of a secret." he began slowly, his expression caught somewhere between false reassurance and self-assured smugness, just like he'd intended it to be. No matter how many centuries may have passed, no one would ever be as good an actor as Lelouch vi Britannia.

Lelouch – _Waylon _– waited for the obvious question to be asked and, just like he'd expected, his audience didn't disappoint.

"Secret?" it was that pudgy woman again. Molly, was it? She was frowning at him. "How will a secret help us?"

Waylon shrugged, his posture relaxed and oozing arrogance. "It will not, but it may make the Dark Lord neigh unbeatable if he gets his hands on it." The slightly sinister glint in his now-brown eyes sent shivers down several spines.

"I have entrusted this power to young Master Potter here," Waylon continued, staring each face dead in the eye before turning to his quasi-charge. "I believe it will serve him well."

"And what is this power?" Dedalus Diggle asked, more curious than demanding. He had always admired Potter, Lelouch had heard, that admiration was proving quite useful. If he could just convince one of them, then the others would undoubtedly follow.

"The power I had gifted Harry Potter is that to make illusions, both in image, sound, smell and touch." Lelouch explained, his confidence unwavering. It was so strange doing this without a mask – the literal one – he could almost feel it's cold, metallic caress on his cheeks.

Hestia Jones had a disbelieving look on her face, like many others, though their's lacked any concern except for themselves. "You think a petty _trick _can beat the Dark Lord?"

Waylon merely gave her a level stare, his face determined but otherwise unreadable. "The power of deception is far greater than people realize. For example," he gestured to his left, his hand doing a graceful, wide arch it hadn't since days long gone. "Mister Potter, if you'd please."

To the surprise of most, it was not Harry who nodded, but Lupin.

The werewolf's form glimmered and wavered, and without warning dispersed like a cloud of dust to reveal Harry Potter in all his glory. Many blinks and slackened jaws later, people began to notice that the spot where the original Potter had once been standing was now occupied by Remus. They'd switched places before their very eyes.

Lelouch found himself hard-pressed not to laugh, but allowed a triumphant chuckle – so quiet he knew no one had heard – slip past his lips.

"If Harry hadn't chosen to show himself to you, you never would have known." he announced smugly. "The Dark Lord may be powerful, but he is merely human after all and all humans trust what their eyes tell them more than anything else."

Unfortunately, doubt still lingered in a few. "But... why would the Dark Lord make such a challenge? Why now?" Molly inquired uncertainly.

"I cannot withhold this information from you any longer." said the newly-revealed Lupin, his words heavy and only adding to the already oppressive atmosphere that had never quite left the group. "A couple of days ago I received notice that the Dark Lord may have acquired a new weapon in his arsenal. As for the details... they are yet unknown."

Fletcher snorted at this. "So all we have is an unfulfilled Prophecy and a gamble that may end our lives. Bloody brilliant."

Lelouch sent him an unimpressed glare. The man was like a scared child and Lelouch fully expected him to wet his pants if anyone even spoke the Dark Lord's name. Utterly pathetic. And _he_ had to put up with it.

"With a cunning plan, that may be all we need." Lelouch answered, keeping his tone relatively pleasant.

Mundungus's expression didn't change. "Yes, that and a miracle."

And Lelouch really wished he could just Geass Fletcher's head off. Thankfully, he had enough self-control not to let the barest hint of what he was thinking show. Why did wizards have to be so difficult?

"Don't you have faith in the Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Fletcher? If you ask for a miracle, I'm sure the Boy-Who-Lived would be happy to deliver."

No one said anything after that. No one knew what to think, let alone say, anyway.

Without a word, Lelouch left the meeting room.

* * *

><p>Lelouch rarely felt guilt over the things he did in this life – <em>but the guilt of that past life of bloodshed and promises of a paradise built upon millions of corpses never failed to haunt him in the night – <em>and was a firmly believed that the end justified the means.

He didn't regret lying to the wizards or forging that fake letter, stating a direct challenge from the Dark Lord to the bane of his existence and not the Immortal he wished to recapture.

Lelouch was used to lying, acting and manipulating to survive. He'd been doing that for decades – _centuries _– now and it had become something of a second nature to him. It was better this way, anyway. He was just biding his time until he got what he wanted. There were two things that he wanted now: revenge over Voldemort and Suzaku back at his side, away from the snake-obsessed madman.

The idea left him with a feeling of dread settling deep in his stomach, and he'd lived long enough to know not to take the premonition lightly. Something was wrong, he could feel it deep in his bones, and it made him all the more wary.

Still, as the day of the confrontation with Voldemort drew nearer, he could only press on and hope that he was wrong for once.

* * *

><p>"How did you know it would work?" Lupin asked him later. The meeting had been disjointed some time ago and most Order members had left by now. "How did you know they'd raise up and fight?"<p>

They were in the kitchen. Lelouch didn't appear to be paying much attention to the other man, munching casually on his apple. "It's amazing what one little miracle can do to the human heart." he said after a while "They just needed a little hope to push them in the right direction."

Lupin's eyes narrowed and, for a moment, Lelouch could almost glance at the werewolf hiding behind human skin. "Even if it were false?"

Lelouch smirked, shrugging "Beggars can't be choosers."

"Is that any way to treat your allies? Are we really so lacking compared to you?"

Lelouch sent the other man a withering look "How are you going to stand up to your arch-enemy if you can even stand up to a room full of delusional old men? Of course a dog will come barking when you throw it a bone, and it will gnaw at it even though it has no meat."

Usually, he wouldn't resort to metaphors but it was part of this new persona he'd made for himself while staying with the wizards. That, and he didn't want the werewolf to get too close and sniff out his plans.

Instead, he turned his disinterested stare to the third occupant of the room, sitting on a chair and looking as if he'd like nothing more than for the ground to open and swallow him whole.

"The final battle will begin soon, Harry. Too soon. We need to be ready for it. You, more than any of us."

* * *

><p>The Ministry of Magic was as quiet as a morgue. People – employees and some civilians who'd been unfortunate enough to get involved in the whole mess – were lined up against the walls and in small groups in the great hall on the main floor of the Ministry. There was a raised platform, a part of which was long and resembled a runway that led to a wider area, high enough for all those present to see – to see the demise of Harry Potter, that is – was situated in the middle of the hall.<p>

The gathered people were whispering among themselves, casting nervous and terrified glances at the Death Eaters surrounding them. Some were openly crying, whether out of fright or something else, and clutching at those closest to them like a lifeline.

They were all waiting for the same thing.

Some were filled with dread, anticipation, hope, terror, elation and yet some were filled with impatient, sadistic _glee _as the object of their turmoil appeared through the grant double doors at the other end of the room.

Voldemort stood from his throne atop the platform, his inner circle of Death Eaters fanning behind him in a semi-ring.

"You've come." Voldemort whispered in his high pitched voice, yet it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. It sent shivers through the crowd.

Harry Potter didn't seem fazed at all though, and it earned him many hopeful glances from the numerous faces in the crowd. Determinedly, he strode forward, an entourage of six people trailing behind him. Remus Lupin, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, Sturgis Podmore and Waylon Bateson walked with their heads held high.

Of course, they hadn't come alone. There was some thirty plus people behind them and around the hall, speaking through the crowd of both civilians and Death Eaters alike under one of Harry's illusions. Kingsley Shaklebolt was their leader, ready to raise a surprise attack if – when – things began to escalate.

When they reached the end of the runway and stepped onto the wide area of the marble platform, Harry straightened his back and looked the Dark Lord straight in the gleaming, red eye.

"I'm not scared of you." he said.

Voldemort's deformed grin only widened. "Yes_ss_, but I could care less_s_ about you." It was a lie, Lelouch could tell, because the man was just as obsessed with Harry Potter as he was with his quest for immortality. Perhaps he thought that, after this, Potter wouldn't be able to even touch him.

"You have _sss_omething of mine," the Dark Lord continued to hiss "why will you not return it to me?"

Lelouch stepped forward now, recognizing his cue.

"You have something of mine as well, why don't you give it back?"

Voldemort chuckled, a sound that was very much alike to dragging nails on a chalkboard. "Hmm, _sss_uch a interesting thing you are." His tone was mocking, deceptively light, as he regarded the Immortal child in front of him. "So cold, so detached, yet so caring about the things you bear some attachment to."

He smiled, his long, bony white fingers coming to rest on his chest, over the area where his heart was supposed to be.

_"But only I can live forever."_

Silence greeted Voldemort's statement and though he could hear a few whimpers from the crowds, Lelouch wasn't fazed at all.

"We all die, someday." Lelouch announced with steel in his tone, his unnatural eyes narrowing further "Return him to me, _now_."

Voldemort only grinned, his crimson eyes gleaming like freshly spilled blood as his Death Eaters parted behind him to allow a figure to step through.

"With pleasure."

Lelouch barely heard the words. He was too relived to care anyway. As he watched Suzaku stumble towards him – _and was that blood dripping onto the floor? Who ever did that was _dead _when the Demon Emperor got his hands on them! _– but when Lelouch locked gazes with those smoldering emeralds, saw them brimming with red and glazed as though asleep, he knew something was very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

><p><em>He found him in the surveillance room lying on the floor. It had been the night before the Zero Requiem. The room had been dark and the only light had been from the many screens mounted on the walls, all focusing on a single cell. Nunally's.<em>

_Suzaku sighed._

"_Lelouch?" he called to the darkness "Lelouch, what are you doing?"_

_There was no response, only causing Suzaku to sigh again. The new Emperor could be so difficult sometimes._

_Suzaku stepped into the room fully, following the trail of light that had spilled from the hallway and waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did, the Knight of Zero was greeted by the sight of Lelouch, still garbed in his royal white robes, slumped against one of the walls. His violet eyes listlessly watched the image of his sister on one of the surveillance screens._

_Suzaku scowled at this. "Come on, Lelouch. Stop moping and get up." He grabbed the other's wrist, pulling him to his feet. Lelouch took a stumbling step forward, but didn't do anything else as he dropped to the floor. Suzaku stared down at him, surprised, before he shook his head and an unreadable expression crossed his face._

_He bent down and propped Lelouch into a sitting position, the other giving him a bleary, disinterested look. It wasn't like Suzaku hadn't seen him in this state before._

_The Japanese boy turned his back on him, kneeling still and Lelouch understood his intentions. Silently, he entwined his fingers around Suzaku's neck, letting the boy lift him onto his back. Adjusting his grip, the Knight set out into the hallway._

"_Your pretty light. Have you been eating?" Suzaku commented after a few minutes. He wasn't worried that he'd be seen. No one was around here beside the occasional guard, and they were all geassed. When there was no response, Suzaku found his brow furrowing "Lelouch?"_

_Then he heard it, first as a chuckle then an actual laugh, although it was more bitter than anything else. "Sorry," the Emperor murmured into his shoulder "I just always thought the man who had the world on his shoulders would be stronger than this."_

_Another chuckle._

"_But I guess that's what I have you for, Suzaku."_

"_To be your own personal mule?" his voice was monotone, unchanging, and his face had been turned away so Lelouch couldn't see his expression, but it still brought a smile to the royal Brittanian's ashen face._

"_I'm sorry." the uncharacteristic words almost made Suzaku stumble. Almost. But he was a Knight of the Round – or had been, at least – and was the personal Knight of the 99__th__ Emperor. He would not stumble for whatever reason. Still, his mouth fell open ever so slightly as he though of what to say to those words. Lelouch cut him off before he could come up with anything, his voice... tentative? What was going on here?_

"_Could you just... bear with me for tonight?" Suzaku heard the voice whisper in his ear. "I can't sleep again." Lelouch chuckled a bit, but the sound held no mirth._

_"But_ _t__omorrow, I can finally rest."_

* * *

><p>Harry wasn't sure what he was seeing.<p>

One moment Ba'al was his usual self and in the next he'd gone bleach white. He doubted anyone else noticed, but after spending so much time with the man in the past few weeks and him standing so close now, it was impossible to miss.

Harry frowned slightly, turning his attention back to the man who'd just appeared from the nest of black cloak. He looked young, maybe a little older than Harry himself, but one look in those eyes proved his real age. But... there was something strange in the eyes... was that a Geass?

Harry suppressed urge to gape and managed to keep most of the shock off his face. He knew for a fact that it wasn't _his_ Geass. Who's was it then? Ba'al had never mentioned he had any other contractors. Harry even remembered him saying that he was his first.

The voice of his mortal enemy broke his frantic trail of thought.

"Now, my puppet," a grin spread across Voldemort's face, so twisted and evil it could have belonged to the devil's himself. He pointed a bony figure right at the Demon Emperor.

"Kill him."

* * *

><p>"<em>Suzaku...?"<em>

_The only reply to his inquiry was the continued echo of stomping feet down the otherwise quiet hall. Lelouch frowned._

"_Suzaku, what are you doing? This isn't the way to my room..." the eighteen-year-old mumbled. Zero Requiem was tomorrow. They shouldn't be wandering the halls like this._

_Again, Suzaku's only response was to turn a corner and go down a flight of stairs. A very familiar flight of stairs._

_Lelouch's frown deepened. "Suzaku? What are we doing here?"_

"_Saying goodbye."_

_Lelouch tensed, both in confusion and because he hadn't been expecting Suzaku to actually answer him for a change. "What do yo-?"_

_His question was cut off as Suzaku kneeled abruptly, causing Lelouch to lose his grip and almost fall. Almost, but he didn't. Lelouch released his grip of Suzaku's neck completely and got off his Knight's back with a good dose of irritation bubbling in him. He said nothing however, sheer exhaustion overpowering his ire easily. He had neither the strength nor will to fight anymore._

_Especially with Suzaku._

_Speaking of the Japanese. "Why'd you bring me here, Suzaku?" Lelouch demanded, but his voice wasn't nearly as icy or demanding as he would have liked it to be._

_As Suzaku stood up and turned, Lelouch thought he cough something in the other's eyes, but it was gone before he could discern what exactly it had been. The Emperor's shoulders dropped even further than usual. _Hate_. That had to be it. Suzaku hadn't forgiven him and probably never would._

_The soldier's voice snapped him back to reality "You're here to say goodbye." He paused, silent and serious, before adding "I'm here to say goodbye too."_

_Lelouch stood, eyes wide and expression stunned. Suzaku was kind enough to ignore his reaction._

"_Come on, we don't have all night." he reminded as he made his way to the pool in the middle of the room. Lelouch blinked once, before following his subordinate to the edge of the still water._

_The only light in the chamber was that of the candles drifting serenely on the liquid's surface. All of them were different in color, but it was soothing, Lelouch mused as he watched the little flames glitter both above the water and in it's reflection below. Still..._

"_You still haven't answered my question yet. Why have you brought me here?"_

_No answer. That wasn't like Suzaku at all. Without another word, Lelouch made his way towards his oldest friend. Looking over the other's shoulder, his breath hitched slightly._

"_Suzaku?" the other boy craned his neck, their eyes met. Lelouch found it hard not to flinch under the scrutiny of Suzaku's intense gaze._

"_Here." The Japanese said after a long moment, handing him a green, round wax ball._

_Lelouch blinked at it, perplexed, as it was shoved into his hands. This was proving to be a rather odd evening. "Wha-?"_

_Suzaku gave him a stare and Lelouch fell silent. The tiniest of frowns was still on adoring his face. What was Suzaku thinking, bringing him here? What did he want?_

_Lelouch looked at his long-time friend, once enemy, now loyal Knight and future killer. He only saw a lost, suffering man._

_Suzaku, meanwhile, refused to meet his gaze. Choosing instead to glare at the candle he'd just given Lelouch. _

"_Just... write the names of everyone... who you want to say goodbye to..."_

_His voice was hesitant, halting, as if he didn't know how to say whatever he planned to or didn't even know what he wanted to say. It was... strange... and rather confusing. Suzaku had always been a constant in Lelouch's life, no matter what role he'd be playing at the moment, and seeing him so doubtful made the Emperor uneasy._

"_Suzaku? What's-?"_

_Again, Suzaku didn't allow him to finish._

"_It's for tomorrow."_

_And was it just Lelouch or did Suzaku's words sound strained, as if he was forcing them out?_

"_Give me your hand." he ordered._

"_Huh?" Suzaku just gave him a dumbfounded stare, and Lelouch could help but think how uncharacteristic this whole meeting was proving to be. They'd been servant and master these past couple of months and two enemies before that... could they reverting back... to friends?_

_No, it didn't matter. It was too late for that anyway._

"_Here." the raven-haired man said, handing Suzaku his candle back while reaching for an unblemished one in the pile next to his Knight. "I'll take this and you take mine."_

_Suzaku's eyes narrowed at this, watching as his Lord avoided his gaze. "Lelouch, why?"_

"_You're ruining the moment Suzaku." Lelouch admonished lightly, but his tone fell flat. What was the point of pretending anymore? "Just... bear with me for tonight."_

_Suzaku paused, his mouth already open and ready to deliver a retort. A thoughtful expression crossed his face then, before it softened ever so slightly. "Alright."_

_Lelouch smiled as well, tired and sorrowful, but the first genuine smile he'd made in what seemed like forever._

_By morning, they were both gone._

* * *

><p><em>Two candles floated above the still, murky waters. A peridot and indigo one, round and ablaze, were both inscribed with two names among the sea of their brethren.<em>

_On the first, in straight Britannian script, were two words, embroidered on the small candle as if it were a tombstone. "Lelouch vi Britannia" they read in the melting wax. On the second, floating not far from it's companion and written in neat kanji, was "Kururugi Suzaku"._

* * *

><p><strong>* - normally, when you mix purple and yellow you're likely to get a shade of brown.<strong>

**_AN: I'm not overly pleased with how this turned out, but it's passable, I guess. What do you think? Good? Bad? Tell me!_**

**_Also, OMG I got over 100 followers! You people are awesome beyond words! *faints from happiness*_**

**On another note, I recently joined a C2 on the Pandora Hearts archive. If anyone's interested, please check it out! Anyone who's read this manga won't be disappointing in the slightest! **

**_Review?_**


	9. Aftermath

_AN: Okay, you didn't like the last chapter, I get it. But really? REALLY? Only one person was nice enough to leave me a review! Do you guys know what a review means to me? It means that someone has not only enjoyed my writing, but enjoyed it so much they were kind enough to make me joyous as well, to point out the parts I did right and the parts I did wrong. I'm thankful for that. But with so little feedback, I have to assume I had failed... all I can do is hope this chapter was better and more to your liking. Read on!_

* * *

><p>Aftermath<p>

"_You want me to do _what_?"_

"_You heard me."_

"_But why?"_

_Ba'al just gave him one of his level stares, which in Harry's opinion was quite unnerving considering the two luminous pools of violet glaring at him like that of a cat ready to pounce._

"_Potter, think about it. If we switch places, the Dark Lord will be too focused on me, the fake Harry Potter, than on you. Also, if your eyes flash with your activated Geass, he's more likely to chalk it up to some strange power of mine and be wary of it." Ba'al recited logically, but Harry still wasn't convinced._

_Ba'al merely sighed, as if dealing with a disobedient child._

"_Trust me, this can only work in our favor."_

* * *

><p><em>This isn't happening. Please, <em>no_. No, no, no,no,no, _no!

But no matter how much he denied, no matter how much he wished it to be just one of his nightmares, the scene playing before his eyes wouldn't waver.

_Two opponents at a crossroads, their weapons poised and ready to kill each other. Anger in their eyes and grief and determination in their poise because the person standing before them in all their hateful glory was a _friend.

Suzaku was holding a wand, his hand steady and his eyes glazed and blank. It was unlike any other expression he'd ever seen on the Japanese man.

_His face was a mask of rage, and though there might have been guilt or sympathy in them there was none now. Fingers jerked back without hesitation and the horrible echo of two gun-shots filled the air._

His face was a emotionless mask now – no, not a mask. There was nothing in those familiar smoldering jades or if there was it was frozen behind that sickly tinge they had acquired.

_Imperius Curse, _his mind whispered, but shock was quickly overriding his senses. _No!_

He had to stay focused. Suzaku needed him! He wouldn't let anyone tear him from him like they had Nunally!

His hand crept towards the pocket of his pants slowly, where he'd hidden a gun. "What is the meaning of this?" his voice was demanding and loud. In the skin of Harry Potter, he surely looked like a martyr to these wizards. His hands didn't even shake as he brushed his fingertips across the cold steel of the gun. "Do you think holding hostages is going to save you from me?"

The crowds might have began to stir with hope and Death Eaters might have screamed profanities at him in outrage and there might have been a few gasps and even a chuckle from thin, empty air but Lelouch honestly couldn't have cared less.

All that mattered was getting Suzaku out of this alive.

_His enemies deserved death!_

Voldemort smirked. "Hosstagesss? Hardly, he's_ss_ here out of his_ss_ own free will." a Death Eater snickered behind him, the sound portraying just how demented its owner must have been. The Dark Lord's grin widened "Or rather, yours_ss_, Lelouch vi Britannia."

The Demon Emperor felt his heart shudder to a stop in his chest.

"_What_?" he heard Harry whisper breathlessly, in his own voice, beside him.

Voldemort would have looked like a kid in a candy store if it wasn't for his deformed, pale face that twisted like a coiling snake. "Don't play dumb, _Your Highnesss_, it does_ss_n't sssuit you." his words were laden with sarcasm and mocking and the manic glint in his red eyes seemed to only to grow as he gazed at the one who he believed to be the former Demon Emperor. "And to think, Royalty was hiding away among the _trasssh_ of the world for _centuriesss_!"

Lelouch felt the familiar anger of a wounded pride fill him. It fueled him, snapped his brain back to the strategic detachment from Zero's golden days. It was like a cold shower in a boiling, murky cloud of desperation and worry.

"_Together there's nothing we can't accomplish, Suzaku."_

His hand wrapped about the gun's handle, ready to pull it out. With everyone's attention focused on Potter (who still wore Lelouch's skin despite his shock), if the real Lelouch could just snap Suzaku back to his senses... if he could just figure out who was casting the spell on, no that was obvi–

Suddenly, there was a sound of something _ripping _and a sharp pain exploded in his forearm. On reflex, he jerked his arm back, inadvertently letting go of the gun. "Ah, ah, ah! That won't do!" sing-sang Bellatrix Lestrange, the bloody woman who'd started this whole fiasco.

Lelouch gritted his teeth. If he flew into a rage now he'd blow his cover. Thankfully, his doppelgänger, the real Harry Potter, took the stage.

"What do you want with him?" Harry demanded. His violet eyes shifted to Lelouch's green ones imperceptibly, before he looked ahead again.

"What do I want with _him_?" Voldemort repeated, shaking his head "It is_ss_ not what I want from him. It's_ss_ what he can grant me! And that is_ss _power over you!"

In that moment of gloating, thriving in a victory that was surely his, the Dark Lord lowered his guard. Lelouch saw his chance.

His hand, the one that wasn't wounded, whipped out a second gun from the robes Potter had lent him and aimed it at the serpent's grinning face, just paces behind Suzaku's still figure.

_Suzaku was there. He wouldn't let him pass. He was standing in the way of his goal!_

_He needed to disappear!_

Lelouch didn't close his eyes, didn't even blink or let the tremors in his arms off his aim. Feeling the familiar taste of blood, death and ashes on his tongue he fired.

* * *

><p>There was a voice screaming at him.<p>

_Live!_

It was loud and familiar.

But he couldn't place it. No matter how hard he tried.

_Live!_

From where did he know that voice? Where was it coming from? There was a figure, blurred and with raven hair, pointing something at him. Was he the one shouting?

_Live!_

It was coming at him. No, not him_but_him_andheshouldprotecthimhehadtoprotect_him_becausehewashisLordandhe'd_always_protect_him.

_Li–_

There was pain, suddenly, it was so immense and all-consuming it felt as though it was a separate entity from him. He staggered, feeling knives pierce his chest and his head felt as though it'd just implode before he was falling, _falling into oblivion._

_**Live, dammit! LIVE!**_

* * *

><p>The hall was deathly quiet as two figures fell to the floor. The world seemed to have frozen in that one, single moment watching with bated breaths. Then, when the bodies hit the black marble floor with resonating <em>thuds!<em>, like a beat of a drum, the world exploded into motion.

Suddenly, Lelouch – still cloaked beneath Harry's illusion – was enveloped in a tight embrace.

"Go to him, now. I'll take care of everything here."

Lelouch nodded. "Convince them this was all your doing. Don't make me regret making a contract with you." he whispered back, making sure the message got across to Harry as well as the severity of it. Who knew how many people had heard Voldemort call him by his true name? He doubted anyone would believe it – most seemed to view the Dark Lord as a madman anyway – but if word somehow got out about him there'd be Hell to pay. For both sides.

Fortunately, his charge made pretty convincing illusions, which also meant he could make slight alternations to people's memories if they just so happened to be under his influence. Even more fortunate was the fact that Lelouch made even more convincing threats.

He felt Harry's back stiffen, but the teen nodded and that was all the confirmation Lelouch needed. They let go of each other.

Wasting no more time, Lelouch dashed down the platform as fast as his legs could carry him, crashing to his keens beside the Japanese man.

"Suzaku!" he called desperately, grasping the other's broad shoulders – _he could feel the bones beneath his clenched fingers and God, what had they done to him?! – _and shaking him lightly – _he was afraid. What if Suzaku was injured somewhere? What if he had internal bleeding? Who knew what the spells of those bastards had done to him! – _and what if Suzaku didn't wake up?

_No! _

Lelouch shook his head vehemently, as if the motion would rid it of all irrational thought.

_No, _they would get thought this together.

Taking a deep breath, Lelouch looked around, seeking out any member of the medical team the Order had dispatched to the Ministry.

* * *

><p>Eventually, when things had come down a bit, the Death Eaters either captured or long gone and the body of the Dark Lord moved out of the Grand Hall of the Ministry, Harry was allowed a moment to breathe.<p>

He still couldn't believe what had happened.

Ba'al – who just so happened to be the Demon Emperor, the _Lelouch vi Britannia! _– had shot Voldemort in the head. It was absurd. Too many things had happened, had changed in that one single day and he just couldn't wrap his head about it all. He had no idea how to react, what to feel.

Had the Prophecy been false, then? No, "Harry Potter" _had_ killed Voldemort or someone disguised as Harry Potter had, at least. Still, what was done was done. Voldemort was dead.

Harry still couldn't believe it.

"You okay, mate?" the Boy-Who-Lived jumped at the voice, coming from barely a foot behind him. Ron smiled down on him, looking both relieved and exhausted. Hermione hovered behind his shoulder.

"Of course he's not, Ron!" she chided, but her tone lacked it's usual heated quality.

Harry smiled at them. Some things never changed and he was glad for that, if nothing else.

"No, I'm okay. Just a little shaken up, is all." he assured his friends. They stopped bickering at his words, looking at him with mirroring expressions of concern.

Hermione sank to her knees next to him. "Oh, Harry." she whispered into his shoulder, bringing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. Harry returned the embrace, still rather numb from everything that had happened.

"I just can't believe Ba'al actually did that." he said, almost to himself.

He felt Hermione stiffen in his arms, before she removed herself enough so she could look him in the face. In the background, Ron cleared his throat, sounding cautious. "Um, Harry, who's Ba'al?"

Harry just blinked, bemused. "What do you mean?" he asked warily, looking from Ron to Hermione to Ron again.

Ron shrugged, his brow pulled into a slightly confused frown "I don't know no bloke named Ba'al, mate."

Now Harry was getting worried.

"What?" he asked, his voice caught somewhere between desperate and demanding. Almost on autopilot, his legs straightened and he began to raise.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked from her spot on the floor.

Harry shook his head, horrible realization beginning to dawn on him and sprinted down the hall, towards the lower levels of the Ministry.

"Harry!"

* * *

><p>Hours later, they were in the Ministry's Medical word. Along with about five dozen other patients that had landed themselves there in the fight that had ensured with the Death Eaters after the fall of their Dark Lord.<p>

He was sitting on the relatively stiff bed, atop bleached and worn sheets, while Suzaku lay under them. He was pale, paler than Lelouch had ever seen him, and his skin had taken an ashen, sickly tinge to it. Even more disconcerting was the gaunt, haggard look his face was set in, even in unconsciousness. Suzaku's cheeks had sunken dramatically since the last time Lelouch had seen him and he was sure that if he were to raise Suzaku's hospital gown, he'd be able to count the man's ribs.

"The Dark Lord had most likely gazed into his memories." A voice sounded from behind. Lelouch paid it no mind, he'd heard the man when he'd walked in, after all. He knew Snape had been watching.

"And why didn't I receive notice of this sooner?" he shot back icily. Maybe, if he'd known, if he'd just _known_ Suzaku wouldn't be laying on a hospital bed _dying._

"He was the Dark Lord's personal toy," Snape explained, his voice strong, unreadable. He remembered, then. "whenever he gave it to the Death Eaters for play, he'd whipe their memories after. Now that he's gone, the barrier he'd put up to block the memories is gone as well."

There was a beat of silence. It stretched for so long and was so heavy it seemed to seep into the core of one's bones. Lelouch let out a sigh, quiet and ancient, burdened by many years.

"Will he be alright?" he asked, bowing his head to the point it rested atop him folded hands on the bed. He closed his eyes tiredly.

Snape knew he probably wasn't expecting an answer, but provided one either way. "I believe you've already been told." he said gravely.

A snort, the emotions behind it too many and in too much turmoil to correctly pinpoint what had brought it on, was him answer. It was a desolate sound.

Yes, the Head Nurse had told him everything he needed to know. Suzaku was dying because he shot that pale bastard in the head – like he had Clovis, so long ago. Apparently, when someone was under the Imperius curse their subconscious was directly linked to that of the one controlling them. Therefore, if the controller died suddenly – like Voldemort had – the victim would either suffer from brain damage or even death, depending on how through the possession had been. And, considering that one of the best Legiliments had been the one in control – and at such a close range – it was safe to say Suzaku's chances weren't looking very high.

Not to mention the controlled had died from a shot to the head. Maybe, just maybe, if Lelouch had shot him in the heart, given him enough time to relinquish his control over Suzaku, then he...

Lelouch opened his mouth to say something, but it went dry and a bitter taste filled it, so he closed it once again. He contented himself with just breathing, trying to ignore the piercing whole that had burrowed deep in his chest.

"Leave me now." he commanded, even though it sounded more like a plea than anything.

Snape must have taken pity on him, because soon Lelouch heard footsteps walking away from him. Then, they stopped. "Potter wanted to see you in the Head Auror's office, by the way." Snape's voice informed him before the man continued walking.

Lelouch listened to the echo of Snape's footfalls until they died down.

The Demon Empror let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Finally alone with his first and only true friend, Lelouch tiredly laid his head on the bed-sheet, his hands coming up to hold one of Suzaku's own between them.

Lelouch let the feeling of still warm, rough and calloused skin sooth and ground him in his growing turmoil, guilt and grief.

"It's not your fault, Suzaku," he murmured "don't worry about it. We'll get through this, together." He smiled, feeling something in him crack just a bit more. "We can do anything together, remember?"

* * *

><p>Sometime later, he couldn't be sure when, this floor of the Ministry's underground had no windows, after all, he got up and left the ward on shaky legs. He'd been reluctant to leave Suzaku at first, refused to leave his side for hours after Snape had left, but he–<p>

No, he wouldn't think about this now.

It was going to be over soon, anyway.

_Finally._

Taking a deep breath, he twisted the doorknob and entered the Head Auror's office.

"You wanted to see me?"

The room was fairly big, but nothing too spectacular. A plain, carpeted floor and stone walls, lined with photos, articles from the paper and other such trivialities. There was a work-desk made of rich mahogany directly opposite the door, surrounded by comfy looking chairs. Potter, who'd been looking over some document, looked up from his spot leaning at the front of the table.

The room was dark and cast in flickering shadow, the fire in the hearth had almost gone out.

"Yes." Harry answered gravely. There was a pause, as if the teen was debating with himself what question to ask first.

Finally, he settled on:

"What are you going to do now?"

Lelouch's face remained unreadable as he closed the door behind him, locking it. With his back turned to his contractor, he answered "If he dies I have no intention of going on."

To him, it was that simple.

Turning to face his charge slowly, almost lethargically, he saw the conflicted expression on the other's face.

"Something wrong?"

Harry shook his head, but the look in his scared green eyes suggested otherwise.

"I can't deactivate my Geass. Ron and Hermione..." he paused, unsure of how to voice his troubles "I can't make them remember you. I wanted them to forget you were at the Ministry this afternoon but instead I... I made them forget ever meeting you."

Lelouch hid how pleased he was by this, no matter that hallow that feeling might have been. He didn't want to leave any traces of his presence for anyone to find and this had just tied up all the loose ends in his involvement in the Second Wizarding War.

"Same for everyone else." Harry intoned miserably "I can't control my Geass anymore."

He looked at Lelouch pleadingly "Why?"

Lelouch himself couldn't be bothered with fake sympathy, choosing instead to be brutally honest. "It's evolving." he explained. With heavy footfalls, he made his way to one of the plush chairs in front of the Head's desk, slumping in it in exhaustion.

"Evolving?" Harry questioned, his brow furrowing.

Lelouch nodded, his eyes dropping slightly. There was no need for pretense anymore. Everything would be over soon. "It's becoming stronger, furthering its own abilities." he clarified.

Harry's frown deepened. "How do I put a stop to it?"

"You can't."

"What?" Harry's eyes widened "There has to be something that can be done!"

Lelouch fell silent, listening to the sound of his own breathing, his heart thumping away in his chest.

"There is."

Feeling as though he'd regret his next words, Harry asked "What is it?"

Lelouch opened his eyes then, choosing to lock them with Harry's own. Two convicted soul stared into each other.

"There's really only two options you can take." Lelouch told him gravely. Distantly, he wondered why Potter hadn't questioned him on _that _particular matter yet. Could it be he was afraid of the Demon Emperor? He was too tired to even laugh at the boy.

Instead, he chuckled, but the sound held no mirth whatsoever. "I can't void our contract anymore. You got what you wanted, but I haven't. Soon, Suzaku will be gone. Our contract is by no means complete." he explained, a bitter tone entering his tone "Thus, you can either continue as you are and quite possibly go mad or... I can pass you my Code."

He knew what that mean for him, that after this he could finally see Nunally and even Suzaku again. He'd wanted to do that for so, _so _long.

Harry, on the other hand, was clueless as to which way the hands of fate were turning on him.

"Your Code?" he asked, confused.

"The thing that makes me immortal." Lelouch enlightened.

Harry stared.

"What? Your offering your immortality to me? Why?"

"You've gotten sharper, Potter." Lelouch smirked, a pale shadow of his usual mockery. "To put it bluntly, I want to die."

The 99th Emperor didn't turn to see the boy's reaction, prowling on regardless with his personal confession. He thought that he should at least say this before the end.

"Everything I've lived for, everything I've loved, is gone. Time has moved on without me. The world has changed but I hadn't. The only reason I've held on is fading as well and I want to follow it into the World of C. I promised him I would," he closed his eyes wistfully "so neither would have to face the loss of a close one while on this world ever again."

The remaining embers cracked ominously in the fire-place, casting their final light before turning to ashes.

"I'm going to fulfill that promise and you're going to fulfill your contract."

He craned his head to the side, coming to stare Harry dead in the eye once again. "What do you say?"

Harry froze, thrown off by the sudden question. Cautiously, his eyes darted about before they stilled on the man before him and he gulped.

"If I don't do this, I'll become a danger to the people I wanted to protect," he said "won't I?"

Lelouch nodded "The life of a King is a lonely one."

"But I'm not a King!" Harry protested heatedly.

"No, but you have the power of one." Lelouch chuckled, shaking his head, as if amused. Pushing himself up, he stood up and crossed the two paces separating him from his young charge.

Silent and unseen, his hand reached for the small knife – _one of Rolo's, such a treasured relic of the past _– hidden away in his cloths. He wondered idly how easily he'd slipped back into the habit of carrying weapons on his person. Lelouch grabbed Harry's hand, holding it firmly, and pressed the blade in his unresponsive fingers.

"Wha-?" Harry's voice broke through his shock, but it was too late. He felt as his armss were guided forward with surprisingly strong, determined hands; felt as the knife drove through sinew and muscle and felt the blood coating his hands.

"_Why_?!" he shouted, but Lelouch barely hear him, barely paid him a thought.

Lelouch smiled a smile of a man dying man.

"When you bury me..." he wheezed, his eyes glazed but strangely at peace and if Harry didn't know any better, he might have said they actually looked _happy_ "please, bury me... beside my friend, so... I'll never... have to leave his side again."

And, with one last wheezing, shuddering, ragged breath, Lelouch vi Britannia closed his eyes one last time.

.

.

.

_The End_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Oh, I am evil. Maybe I liked the ending of Code Geass way too much... Would you believe me if I said I had a completely different ending in mind? This kinda just wrote itself... anyway, this only leave me to write the epilogue, which will be updated on the 1<em>_st__ of September! Don't forget to drop me a word and tell me what you think about this, please?_


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

><p>Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.<p>

_–Napoleon Bonaparte_

* * *

><p>He walked on the snow-covered grown with slow, deliberate steps. His feet left the evidence of his path in the white mass. It glittered underfoot, alight with the barely there twinkle of the street lamps on the far side of the cemetery.<p>

He'd brought several bouquets of white roses, laying them on the graves of his parents and his fallen comrades and friends. It was already late in the evening and the early November chill hung in the air, yet the cold didn't bother him at all.

The small boy by his side, however, was another story.

It was a good thing that he only had one more stop to make then. His wife would surely strangle him if their youngest caught a cold just because he'd insisted on following his father on a night stroll to the graveyard, of all places.

Smiling at the thought of his family waiting for him back home, the man stopped by two unmarked graves at the far edge of the cemetery. He bent down to place the flowers he'd been carrying atop their white marble surface.

He looked at them both, twin stones of pearly white – almost as white as the snow itself – and said nothing. He may have been the only one who remembered them, but he had not been the one to grieve and miss them as their loved ones surely had centuries prior.

"Daddy? Who's this?" the little boy by his side asked, staring up at the green-eyed man. "Why are there no names on the stones?"

"They're... just people the world had forgotten about." the man answered after a moment of hesitation.

His son frowned "But, why? Don't they have anyone to remember them?"

This made the elder pause.

"I guess not." he said but after a second of contemplation, he added "Not anymore at least."

The boy pouted unhappily. "That's sad."

"It's something that will eventually happen to all of us." the man smiled sadly, ruffling the boy's hair and said "Only the forgotten are truly dead*, after all."

* * *

><p><strong>* – quote from Tess Garritsen.<strong>

**AN: I can't believe I've actually finished this! It's so weird. Still, it's been tremendous fun to write and I loved every single moment of it. You guys were awesome, your kind words and suggestions lifted me over the moon and never failed to make my day. To everyone who's reviewed, followed and favorited this story up until now – thank you!**

**If anyone's interested in reading more of my works I suggest you visit my profile and see if there's something you may like. Or check out my favorite stories or authors or even my C2, I'm a very picky person so you're sure to find something of quality there!**

**Can I ask you guys to review one last time? As a parting gift?**


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